UHIVERS1TY  0V  C 
DAVIS 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF 
ARTEMAS   QUIBBLE 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF 
ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE 


BEING  THE  INGENUOUS  AND  UNVARNISHED  HISTORY  OF 
ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE,  ESQUIRE,  ONE-TIME  PRACTITIONER 
INTHE  NEW  YORK  CRIMINAL  COURTS,  TOGETHER  WITH  AN 
ACCOUNT  OF  THE  DIVERS  WILES,  TRICKS,  SOPHISTRIES, 
TECHNICALITIES,  AND  SUNDRY  ARTIFICES  OF  HIMSELF 
AND  OTHERS  OF  THE  FRATERNITY,  COMMONLY  YCLEPT 

"SHYSTERS"  OR  "SHYSTER  LAWYERS,"  AS   EDITED 


BY 

ARTHUR  TRAIN 

FORMERLY  ASSISTANT  DISTRICT  ATTORNEY 
NEW  YORK  COUNTY 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1924 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Our  offices  were  thronged  with  clients  of  all  sexes,  ages, 

conditions,  and  nationalities Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

He  would  grasp  me  firmly  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and 
force  my  nose  toward  the  plate  with  the  command, 
"Eat,  boy!" 6 

"  I  see  that  you  are  a  man  of  esprit !    I  shall  be  glad  to 

take  you  into  my  office" 48 

Grasping  Mr.  Winthrop  Van  Rennsellaer  by  his  linen 

collar,  he  yanked  him  out  of  his  chair     ....      102 

"  You  think  you  can  take  advantage  of  me  because  I'm 

an  old  man!"  he  shrieked  in  his  rage      ....      130 

He  lay  like  an  overturned  June-bug  upon  the  sidewalk   .      158 

"Did  he  ever  serve  you  with  any  papers — in  the  Astor 

House  or  anywhere  else?" 182 

I  marvelled  that  Dillingham  could  have  sacrificed  such  a 

charming  little  daughter  so  easily 186 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF 
ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF 
ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE 

CHAPTER  I 

I  WAS  born  in  the  town  of  Lynn,  Massachusetts, 
upon  the  twenty-second  day  of  February,  in 
the  year  1855.  Unlike  most  writers  of  similar 
memoirs,  I  shall  cast  no  aspersions  upon  the  in 
digent  by  stating  that  my  parents  were  poor  but 
honest.  They  were  poor  and  honest,  as  indeed,  so 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain,  have  been  all 
the  Quibbles  since  the  founder  of  the  family  came 
over  on  the  good  ship  Susan  and  Ellen  in  1635 
and,  after  marrying  a  lady's  maid  who  had  been 
his  fellow  passenger,  settled  in  the  township  of 
Weston,  built  a  mill,  and  divided  his  time  equally 
between  selling  rum  to  the  Indians  and  rearing  a 
numerous  progeny. 

My  father,  the  Reverend  Ezra  Quibble,  was,  to 
be  sure,  poor  enough.  The  salary  that  he  received 
as  pastor  of  his  church  was  meagre  to  the  degree 
of  necessitating  my  wearing  his  over-worn  and 

3 


The  Confessions  of 

discarded  clerical  vestments,  which  to  some  extent 
may  account  for  my  otherwise  inexplicable  distaste 
for  things  ecclesiastical.  My  mother  was  poor, 
after  wedlock,  owing  to  the  eccentricity  of  a  parent 
who  was  so  inexorably  opposed  to  religion  that 
he  cut  her  off  with  a  shilling  upon  her  marriage  to 
my  father.  Before  this  she  had  had  and  done 
what  she  chose,  as  was  fitting  for  the  daughter  of 
a  substantial  citizen  who  had  made  a  fortune  in 
shoe  leather. 

I  remember  that  one  of  my  first  experiments 
upon  taking  up  the  study  of  law  was  to  investi 
gate  my  grandfather's  will  in  the  probate  office, 
with  a  view  to  determining  whether  or  not,  in  his 
fury  against  the  church,  he  had  violated  any  of 
the  canons  of  the  law  in  regard  to  perpetuities 
or  restraints  upon  alienation;  or  whether  in  his 
enthusiasm  for  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  Free  Thinking,  which  he  had  established  and 
intended  to  perpetuate,  he  had  not  been  guilty  of 
some  technical  slip  or  blunder  that  would  enable 
me  to  seize  upon  its  endowment  for  my  own  benefit. 
But  the  will!  alas,  had  been  drawn  by  that  most 
careful  of  draughtsmen,  old  Tuckerman  Toddle- 
ham,  of  14  Barristers'  Hall,  Boston,  and  was  as 
solid  as  the  granite  blocks  of  the  court-house  and 
as  impregnable  of  legal  attack  as  the  Constitution. 

4 


Artemas  Quibble 

We  lived  in  a  frame  house,  painted  a  disconsolate 
yellow.  It  abutted  close  upon  the  sidewalk  and 
permitted  the  passer-by  to  view  the  family  as  we 
sat  at  meat  or  enjoyed  the  moderate  delights  of  so 
cial  intercourse  with  our  neighbors,  most  of  whom 
were  likewise  parishioners  of  my  father. 

My  early  instruction  was  received  in  the  public 
schools  of  my  native  town,  supplemented  by  tort 
ured  hours  at  home  with  "GreenleaFs  Mental 
Arithmetic"  and  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  major 
and  minor  prophets.  The  former  stood  me  in  good 
stead,  but  the  latter  I  fear  had  small  effect.  At 
any  rate,  the  impression  made  upon  me  bore  little 
fruit,  and  after  three  years  of  them  I  found  myself 
in  about  the  same  frame  of  mind  as  the  Oxford 
student  who,  on  being  asked  at  his  examination  to 
distinguish  between  the  major  and  minor  prophets, 
wrote  in  answer:  "God  forbid  that  I  should  dis 
criminate  between  such  holy  men!" 

But  for  all  that  I  was  naturally  of  a  studious 
and  even  scholarly  disposition,  and  much  preferred 
browsing  among  the  miscellaneous  books  piled 
in  a  corner  of  the  attic  to  playing  the  rough- 
and-tumble  games  in  which  my  school-mates 
indulged. 

My  father  was  a  stern,  black-bearded  man  of 
the  ante-bellum  type,  such  as  you  may  see  in  any 

5 


The  Confessions  of 

old  volume  of  daguerreotypes,  and  entirely  un 
blessed  with  a  sense  of  humor.  I  can  even  now 
recall  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart  the  manner  in 
which,  if  I  abjured  my  food,  he  would  grasp  me 
firmly  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  force  my  nose 
toward  the  plate  of  Indian  mush — which  was  the 
family  staple  at  supper — with  the  command,  "  Eat, 
boy'/'  Sometimes  he  was  kind  to  a  degree  which, 
by  a  yawning  of  the  imagination,  might  be  re 
garded  as  affectionate,  but  this  was  only  from  a 
sense  of  religious  duty.  At  such  times  I  was  prone 
to  distrust  him  even  more  than  at  others.  He  be 
lieved  in  a  personal  devil  with  horns,  a  tail,  and, 
I  suspect,  red  tights;  and  up  to  the  age  of  ten  I 
shared  implicitly  in  this  belief.  The  day  began 
and  ended  with  family  prayers  of  a  particularly 
long-drawn-out  and  dolorous  character. 

My  mother,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  pale 
young  woman  of  an  undecided  turn  of  mind  with 
a  distinct  taste  for  the  lighter  pleasures  that  she 
was  never  allowed  to  gratify.  I  think  she  secretly 
longed  for  the  freedom  that  had  been  hers  under 
the  broader  roof  of  her  father's  stately  mansion  on 
High  Street.  But  she  had,  I  suspect,  neither  the 
courage  nor  the  force  of  mind  to  raise  an  issue, 
and  from  sheer  inertia  remained  faithful  to  the  life 
that  she  had  elected. 

6 


I 


o; 


I 


l 


Artemas  Quibble 

My  grandfather  never  had  anything  to  do  with 
either  of  them  and  did  not,  so  far  as  I  am  aware, 
know  me  by  sight,  which  may  account  for  the  fact 
that  when  he  died  he  bequeathed  a  moderate  sum 
in  trust,  "the  proceeds  to  be  devoted  to  the  sup 
port  and  maintenance  of  the  child  of  rny  daugh 
ter  Sarah,  at  some  suitable  educational  institution 
where  he  may  be  removed  from  the  influences  of 
his  father." 

Thus  it  was  that  at  the  age  of  nine  I  was  sent 
away  from  home  and  began  an  independent  career 
at  the  boarding-school  kept  by  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Quirk,  at  Methuen,  Massachusetts.  Here  I  re 
mained  for  seven  years,  in  the  course  of  which 
both  my  parents  died,  victims  of  typhoid.  I  was 
cast  upon  the  world  utterly  alone,  save  for  the 
rather  uncompromising  and  saturnine  regard  in 
which  I  was  held  by  old  Mr.  Toddleham,  my 
trustee.  This  antique  gentleman  inhabited  a  musty 
little  office,  the  only  furniture  in  which  consisted 
of  a  worn  red  carpet,  a  large  engraving  of  the  Hon. 
Jeremiah  Mason,  and  a  table  covered  with  green 
baize.  I  recall  also  a  little  bronze  horse  which  he 
used  as  a  paper  weight.  He  had  a  shrewd  wrinkled 
face  of  the  color  of  parchment,  a  thin  yellow  wig, 
and  a  blue  cape  coat.  His  practice  consisted  al 
most  entirely  in  drawing  wills  and  executing  them 

7 


The  Confessions  of 

after  the  decease  of  their  respective  testators,  whom 
he  inevitably  outlived,  and  I  think  he  regarded 
me  somewhat  in  the  light  of  a  legal  joke.  He 
used  to  send  for  me  twice  a  year,  for  the  sole  pur 
pose,  I  believe,  of  ascertaining  whether  or  not  I 
was  sufficiently  nourished  at  Quirk's  establishment. 
On  these  occasions  he  would  take  me  to  lunch  with 
him  at  the  Parker  House,  where  he  invariably  or 
dered  scallops  and  pumpkin  pie  for  me  and  a  pint 
of  port  for  himself. 

On  my  departure  he  would  hand  me  solemnly 
two  of  the  pieces  of  paper  currency  known  as  "shin 
plasters,"  and  bid  me  always  hold  my  grandfather's 
memory  in  reverence.  On  one  of  these  occasions, 
when  he  had  laid  me  under  a  similar  adjuration, 
I  asked  him  whether  he  had  ever  heard  of  the 
man  who  made  his  son  take  off  his  hat  whenever 
he  met  a  pig — on  the  ground  that  his  father  had 
made  his  money  in  pork.  He  stared  at  me  very 
hard  for  a  moment  with  his  little  twinkling  eyes 
and  then  suddenly  and  without  any  preliminary 
symptoms  exploded  in  a  cackle  of  laughter. 

"Goddamme,"  he  squeaked,  "I  wish  your 
gran'ther  could  a*  heard  y'  say  that!" 

Then  without  further  explanation  he  turned  and 
made  his  way  down  School  Street  and  I  did  not 
see  him  for  another  six  months. 

8 


Artemas  Quibble 

My  life  at  Quirk's  was  a  great  improvement  over 
the  life  I  had  led  at  home  in  Lynn.  In  the  first 
place  I  was  in  the  real  country,  and  in  the  second  I 
had  the  companionship  of  good-natured,  light- 
hearted  people.  The  master  himself  was  of  the 
happy-go-lucky  sort  who,  with  a  real  taste  for  the 
finer  things  of  literature  and  life,  take  no  thought 
for  the  morrow  or  indeed  even  for  the  day.  He 
was  entirely  incapable  of  earning  a  living  and  had 
been  successively  an  actor,  a  lecturer,  a  preacher, 
and  a  pedagogue.  He  was  a  fine  scholar  of  Latin 
and  could  quote  Terence,  Horace,  and  Plautus  in  a 
way  that  could  stir  the  somnolent  soul  even  of  a 
school -boy.  His  chief  enemy,  next  to  laziness,  was 
drink.  He  would  disappear  for  days  at  a  time  into 
his  study,  and  afterward  explain  that  he  had  been 
engaged  in  the  preparation  of  his  magnum  opus, 
which  periodically  was  just  on  the  point  of  going 
to  press. 

During  these  interludes  the  school  was  run  by 
Mrs.  Quirk,  a  robust,  capable,  and  rosy  English 
woman,  who  had  almost  as  much  learning  as  her 
husband  and  ten  times  as  much  practical  ability. 
There  were  twelve  boys  in  the  school,  for  each  of 
whom  the  Quirks  received  the  modest  sum  of  two 
hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  a  year.  In  ex 
change  for  this  they  gave  board,  lodging,  and  tui- 

9 


The  Confessions  of 

toon.  Each  of  us  received  separate  instruction — 
or  as  Quirk  expressed  it  "individual  attention" — 
and  excellent  instruction  it  was.  We  arose  at  six, 
breakfasted  at  six-thirty,  and  helped  around  the 
house  until  eight,  when  our  studies  began.  These 
continued  until  twelve,  at  which  time  we  had 
dinner.  After  that  we  were  free  until  two- thirty, 
when  we  resumed  our  labors  until  four. 

Quirk  was  a  tall,  lank,  loose-jointed  man,  with 
long  black  hair  that  lay  well  over  his  Byronic  col 
lar.  He  had  a  humorous  eye  and  a  cavernous 
mouth  that  was  always  twisting  itself  into  grimaces, 
alternately  side-splitting  and  terrifying.  On  occa 
sions  he  would  use  the  birch — and  very  thoroughly 
too,  as  I  have  reason  to  remember — but  he  ruled  us 
rather  by  a  sort  of  free  and  easy  camaraderie  than 
by  fear  of  authority.  For  though  he  dressed  like  a 
clergyman,  he  always  smelled  strongly  of  stale  cigar 
smoke,  and  his  language  at  times  was  more  forci 
ble  than  is  generally  expected  of  a  wearer  of  the 
cloth. 

I  dwelt  with  the  Quirks,  winter  and  summer, 
until  I  was  able  to  pass  my  examinations  for  Har 
vard,  which  I  did  in  the  summer  of  1871.  My  al 
lowance  had  been  gradually  increased  to  meet  my 
new  expenses,  and  I  entered  the  freshman  class 
with  an  income  sufficient  to  permit  me  to  dress 

10 


Artemas  Quibble 

suitably  and  enjoy  myself  in  such  simple  ways  as 
were  in  vogue  among  the  collegians.  But  coming 
as  I  did,  alone,  from  a  small  boarding-school, 
proved  to  be  a  great  disadvantage,  for  I  had  all 
my  friends  to  make  after  my  arrival  and  I  had 
neither  the  means  nor  the  address  to  acquire  ready- 
made  social  distinction.  Thus  it  happened  that  I 
was  very  lonely  during  my  first  years  in  Cambridge; 
missed  the  genial  companionship  of  my  old  friends, 
the  Quirks,  and  seized  every  opportunity  that 
offered  for  going  back  to  Methuen. 

I  had  grown  into  a  tail,  narrow-shouldered 
youth,  with  a  high-arched  nose  set  between  rather 
pale  cheeks,  and  prominent  ears.  Though  I  could 
hardly  flatter  myself  into  the  belief  that  I  was 
handsome,  I  felt  that  my  appearance  had  some 
thing  of  distinction  and  that  I  looked  like  a  gentle 
man.  I  affected  coats  with  long  tails  and  a  some 
what  dandified  style  of  waistcoat  and  neck-cloth, 
as  well  as  a  white  beaver,  much  in  favor  among 
the  "bloods"  of  those  days.  But  this  took  most 
of  my  available  cash  and  left  me  little  to  expend 
in  treating  my  fellow  students  at  the  tavern  or  in 
enjoying  the  more  substantial  culinary  delights 
of  the  Boston  hotels.  Thus  though  I  made  no 
shabby  friends  I  acquired  few  genteel  ones,  and  I 
began  to  feel  keenly  the  disadvantages  of  a  lean 

II 


The  Confessions  of 

purse.  I  was  elected  into  none  of  the  clubs,  nor 
did  I  receive  any  invitations  to  the  numerous  balls 
given  in  Boston  or  even  to  those  in  Cambridge. 
This  piqued  my  pride,  to  be  sure,  but  only  inten 
sified  my  resolution  to  become  a  man  of  fashion 
on  my  own  account.  If  my  classmates  could  get 
on  without  me  I  felt  that  I  could  get  on  without 
them,  and  I  resolutely  declined  to  appreciate  any 
social  distinction  that  might  artificially  exist  be 
tween  a  man  born  in  Salem  and  one  born  in  Lynn, 
although  I  now  understand  that  such  distinction 
exists,  at  least  so  far  as  Boston  society  is  con 
cerned.  Consequently  as  time  went  on  and  I 
could  achieve  prominence  in  no  other  way,  I  sought 
consolation  for  the  social  joys  denied  me  by  my 
betters  by  acquiring  the  reputation  of  a  sport.  I 
held  myself  coldly  aloof  from  the  fashionable  men 
of  my  class  and  devoted  myself  to  a  few  cronies 
who  found  themselves  in  much  the  same  position 
as  my  own.  In  a  short  time  we  became  known  as 
the  fastest  set  in  college,  and  our  escapades  were 
by  no  means  confined  to  Cambridge,  but  were  car 
ried  on  with  great  impartiality  in  Boston  and  the 
neighboring  towns. 

We  organized  a  club,  which  we  called  the  Cock 
and  Spur,  and  had  a  rat-pit  and  cock-fights  in  the 
cellar,  on  which  occasions  we  invited  out  young 

12 


Artemas  Quibble 

actors  from  the  Boston  Museum  and  Howard  Ath 
enaeum  stock  companies.  These  in  turn  pressed 
us  with  invitations  to  similar  festivities  of  their 
own,  and  we  thus  became  acquainted  with  the 
half-world  of  the  modern  Athens,  which  was  much 
worse  for  us,  I  trow,  than  would  have  been  the 
most  desperate  society  of  our  college  contempo 
raries.  There  was  a  club  of  young  actors  that 
we  used  to  frequent,  where  light  comedy  sketches 
and  scenes  from  famous  plays  were  given  by  the 
members,  and  in  due  time  several  of  us  were  ad 
mitted  to  membership.  Of  these  I  was  one  and 
learned  to  do  a  turn  very  acceptably.  On  one 
occasion  I  took  a  small  part  upon  the  Boston 
Museum  stage  to  fill  the  place  made  vacant  by  the 
illness  of  a  regular  member  of  the  cast — an  illness 
due  in  part  to  a  carousal  at  the  Cock  and  Spur 
the  night  before,  in  which  he  had  come  out  second 
best. 

We  were  a  clever  crew,  however,  and  never 
gave  the  faculty  reason  to  complain  of  aay  failure 
on  our  part  to  keep  up  in  our  studies.  When 
examination  time  came  we  hired  an  impecunious 
coach  and,  retiring  from  the  world,  acquired  in 
five  days  knowledge  that  our  fellows  had  taken 
eight  months  to  imbibe.  It  is  trae  that  the  col 
lege  at  large  viewed  us  with  some  disgust,  but 


The  Confessions  of 

we  chose  to  regard  this  as  mere  envy.  That  we 
were  really  objectionable  must,  however,  be  ad 
mitted,  for  we  smoked  cigars  in  the  Yard,  wore 
sky-blue  pantaloons  and  green  waistcoats,  and 
cultivated  little  side  whiskers  of  the  mutton-chop 
variety;  while  our  gigs  and  trotters  were  constantly 
to  be  seen  standing  in  Harvard  Square,  waiting 
for  the  owners  to  claim  them  and  take  the  road. 

On  Sundays,  when  the  decorous  youths  of  Bos 
ton  had  retired  to  Beacon  Street  for  their  midday 
family  feast  of  roast  beef  and  baked  beans,  the 
members  of  the  Cock  and  Spur  might  be  ob 
served  in  their  white  beaver  hats  driving  country- 
ward  in  chaises  from  the  local  livery  stables, 
seated  beside  various  fair  ladies  from  the  Boston 
stage  or  the  less  distinguished  purlieus  of  the  Cam 
bridge  chop-houses.  At  noon  these  parties  would 
foregather  at  some  country  tavern  and  spend  long 
afternoons  singing,  drinking,  and  playing  draw 
poker  and  other  games  of  chance;  and  occasion 
ally  we  would  fight  a  main  of  cocks  in  some  con 
venient  pig-pen. 

But  this  sort  of  a  life  took  money,  and  I  soon 
found  myself  borrowing  freely  from  my  associ 
ates,  most  of  whom  were  young  fellows  from  other 
States  who  had  already  come  into  their  inheri 
tances  and  had  gone  to  Harvard  to  get  rid  of 


Artemas  Quibble 

them  under  the  most  approved  conditions.  For 
these  I  came  to  stand  as  a  sort  of  sponsor,  and  was 
looked  up  to  by  them  as  a  devil  of  a  fellow,  for  I 
swore  picturesquely  and  had  a  belligerently  un 
pleasant  manner  that  was  regarded  as  something 
quite  out  of  the  ordinary  and  distinguished.  These 
youthful  spendthrifts  I  patronized  and  taught  the 
mysteries  of  a  sporting  life,  and  for  a  time  it  be 
came  quite  smart  for  a  fellow  to  have  gone  on 
one  of  "QuibV  notes.  These  notes,  however, 
increased  rapidly  in  number,  and  before  long 
amounted  to  such  a  prodigious  sum  that  they 
gave  me  great  uneasiness. 

My  habits  had  become  extravagant  and  careless. 
Having  no  money  at  all  I  took  no  heed  of  what  I 
did  with  that  of  others,  for  I  hardly  believed  that 
I  could  ever  repay  any  of  it.  But  I  continued  on 
in  my  luxurious  ways,  well  knowing  that  any 
change  in  my  mode  of  life  would  precipitate  a 
deluge.  The  safety  of  my  position  lay  in  owing 
everybody,  and  in  inducing  each  to  believe  that 
he  would  be  the  one  person  ultimately  or  immedi 
ately  to  be  paid.  Moreover,  I  was  not  completely 
spoiled  and  craved  so  ardently  the  enjoyments  in 
which  I  had  indulged  that  I  would  never  of  myself 
have  had  the  will  to  abjure  them.  I  had  gained 
that  which  I  sought — reputation.  I  was  accounted 


The  Confessions  of 

the  leader  of  the  fast  set — the  "All  Knights"  as 
we  were  known — and  1  was  the  envy  and  admira 
tion  of  my  followers.  But  this  bred  in  me  an 
arrogance  that  proved  my  undoing.  It  was  neces 
sary  for  me  to  be  masterful  in  order  to  carry  off 
the  pose  of  leadership,  but  I  had  not  yet  learned 
when  to  conciliate. 

It  so  happened  that  in  the  spring  of  my  junior 
year  my  creditors  became  more  than  usually  press 
ing,  and  at  the  same  time  a  Jew  by  the  name  of 
Poco  Abrahams  began  to  threaten  suit  on  a  note 
of  mine  for  two  thousand  dollars,  which  I  had 
discounted  with  him  for  seven  hundred  and  fifty. 
I  made  my  usual  demands  upon  my  friends  and 
offered  to  do  them  the  favor  of  letting  them  go  on 
some  more  of  my  paper,  but  without  the  usual 
result.  I  then  discovered  to  my  annoyance  that  a 
wealthy  young  fellow  known  as  "Buck"  de  Vries, 
who  had  considered  himself  insulted  by  something 
that  I  had  said  or  done,  had  been  quietly  spread 
ing  the  rumor  that  I  was  a  sort  of  hocus-pocus 
fellow  and  practically  bankrupt,  that  my  preten 
sions  to  fashion  were  ridiculous,  and  that  I  made 
a  business  of  living  off  other  people.  Incident 
ally  he  had  gone  the  rounds,  and,  owing  to  the 
rumors  that  he  himself  had  spread,  had  succeeded 
in  buying  up  most  of  my  notes  at  a  tremendous 

16 


Artemas  Quibble 

discount.  These  he  lost  no  time  in  presenting 
for  payment,  and  as  they  amounted  to  several 
thousand  dollars  my  hope  of  reaching  a  settle 
ment  with  him  was  small.  In  point  of  fact  I  was 
quite  sure  that  he  wanted  no  settlement  and  de 
sired  only  revenge,  and  I  realized  what  a  fool  I 
had  been  to  make  an  enemy  out  of  one  who  might 
have  been  an  ally. 

In  this  embarrassing  situation  I  bethought  me 
of  old  Mr.  Toddleham,  and  accordingly  paid  him 
an  unexpected  visit  at  Barristers'  Hall.  It  was  a 
humid  spring  day,  and  I  recall  that  the  birds  were 
twittering  loudly  in  the  maples  back  of  the  Pro 
bate  Office.  As  befitted  my  station  at  the  time  of 
year,  I  was  arrayed  in  a  new  beaver  and  a  par 
ticularly  fanciful  pair  of  rather  tight  trousers. 

"Come  in,"  squeaked  Mr.  Toddleham,  and  I 
entered  easily. 

The  old  lawyer  peered  quizzically  at  me  from 
behind  his  square-boned  spectacles. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "it's  you,  Master  Quibble." 

"The  same,  and  your  most  obedient,"  I  replied, 
letting  myself  fall  gracefully  into  a  chair  and  cross 
ing  my  legs. 

"You  want  money,  I  suppose?"  he  continued, 
after  a  few  minutes,  during  which  he  inspected 
my  get-up  with  some  interest. 


The  Confessions  of 

"Well,"  I  commenced  lightly,  "the  fact  is  I  am 
rather  pressed.  I  thought  if  you  could  make  me  a 
small  advance  out  of  my  grandfather's  legacy " 

"Legacy!    What  legacy?"  he  inquired. 

"The  legacy  my  grandfather  left  me." 

"He  left  you  no  legacy,"  retorted  the  old  gentle 
man.  "Your  grandfather,  to  whom  you  were 
once  so  considerate  as  to  refer  in  my  presence  a$  a 
pig,  left  you  no  legacy.  He  directed  that  as  long 
as  you  seemed  to  deserve  it  I  should  spend  a  cer 
tain  sum  on  your  maintenance  and  education." 

"Gad!"  I  cried.  "That  puts  me  in  a  nice 
position!" 

The  old  lawyer  looked  at  me  whimsically. 

"My  gay  young  man,"  he  remarked  finally,  "the 
only  position  you  occupy  is  one  into  which  you 
have  deliberately  walked  yourself.  You  come 
here  in  your  fine  clothes  and  your  beaver  hat  and — 
excuse  me — your  whiskers,  and  you  are  surprised 
that  there  is  no  money  forthcoming  to  pay  your 
debts.  Do  not  look  astonished.  I  know  and  have 
known  for  a  long  time  of  your  debts.  I  have  fol 
lowed  your  career  with  attention  if  not  with  edifi 
cation.  Even  for  the  son  of  a  Baptist  minister 
you  have  done  pretty  well.  However,  life  is  life 
and  everybody  is  not  the  same.  I  sha'n't  judge 
you.  I  was  a  bit  of  a  dog  myself,  although  I  don't 

18 


Artemas  Quibble 

look  it  now.  But  I  can  give  you  no  more  money 
for  game-cocks  and  cigars.  It  is  time  for  you  to 
start  in  and  earn  your  own  living — if  you  can.  At 
the  end  of  the  term  I  will  give  you  fifty  dollars 
and  a  ticket  to  New  York,  or  one  hundred  dol 
lars  and  no  ticket  to  anywhere.  You  will  have  to 
kick  out  for  yourself.  So  fine  a  fellow,"  he  added, 
"  ought  not  to  find  it  hard  to  get  along.  No  doubt 
you  could  find  some  rich  girl  to  marry  you  and 
support  you  in  idleness." 

I  flushed  with  anger  and  sprang  to  my  feet. 

"I  did  not  come  here  to  be  insulted!"  I  cried 
furiously. 

Old  Mr.  Toddleham  chuckled  apologetically. 

"Tut,  tut!  No  offence.  You  wont  find  earn 
ing  your  living  such  an  easy  matter.  Have  you 
thought  anything  about  what  you'll  do?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  still  indignant. 

"How  much  do  you  owe?" 

"About  forty-eight  hundred  dollars." 

"  Damme  1"  muttered  Mr.  Tuckerman  Toddle- 
ham.  "  More  than  you  could  earn  in  the  first  five 
years  at  the  law!" 

"See  here,"  I  interrupted,  "do  you  seriously 
mean  that  except  for  fifty  dollars  or  so  there  is 
nothing  coming  to  me  out  of  my  grandfather's 
estate  ?  Why,  he  was  worth  over  a  million!" 

19 


The  Confessions  of 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  mean,"  he  returned. 
**  He  left  you  nothing  except  an  allowance  for  your 
education  during  your  good  behavior.  He  made 
me  the  judge.  I'm  your  trustee  and  I  can't  con 
scientiously  let  you  have  any  more  money  to  drink 
up  and  gamble  with.  It's  over  and  done  with." 
He  rapped  with  an  air  of  finality  on  his  desk  with 
the  little  bronze  horse. 

"Who  gets  all  the  money?"  I  asked  ruefully. 

"The  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  Free  Think 
ing,"  he  answered,  eyeing  me  sharply. 

"I  should  think  anything  like  that  ought  to  be 
contrary  to  law!"  I  retorted.  "It  ought  to  be  a 
crime  to  encourage  atheism." 

"It's  a  good  devise  under  our  statutes!"  he 
answered  dryly.  "I  suppose  your  own  faith  is 
beautiful  enough,  eh?" 

I  did  not  respond,  but  sat  twisting  my  hat  in  my 
hands.  Through  the  open  window  the  soft  damp 
odors  of  spring  came  in  and  mingled  with  the  dusty 
smell  of  law  books.  So  this  was  law!  It  sud 
denly  struck  me  that  I  was  taking  the  loss  of 
over  a  million  dollars  very  resignedly.  How  did 
I  know  whether  the  old  boy  was  telling  me  the 
truth  or  not  ?  He  had  drawn  the  will  and  got  a 
good  fee  for  it.  Certainly  he  was  not  going  to 
admit  that  there  was  anything  invalid  about  it. 

20 


Artemas  Quibble 

Why  not  study  law — I  might  as  well  do  that  as 
anything — and  find  out  for  myself?  It  was  a 
game  worth  playing.  The  stakes  were  a  million 
and  the  forfeit  nothing.  As  I  looked  around 
the  little  office  and  at  the  weazened  old  barrister 
before  me,  something  of  the  fascination  of  the  law 
took  hold  of  me. 

"  I  rather  think  I  should  like  to  study  law  my 
self,"  I  remarked. 

He  looked  at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  his  bead- 
like  little  eyes. 

"And  break  your  gran'ther's  will,  mebbe  ?"  he 
inquired  slyly. 

"If  I  can/'    I  retorted  defiantly. 

"That  would  be  better  than  fighting  cocks  and 
frittering  your  time  away  with  play  actors,"  said  he. 

"Mr.  Toddleham,"  I  returned,  "if  I  will  agree 
to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  give  up  my  present 
associates,  will  you  continue  my  allowance  and 
let  me  stay  on  in  Cambridge  and  study  law?" 

"If  you  will  agree  to  enter  my  office  and  study 
under  my  supervision — yes." 

Once  more  I  glanced  around  the  little  room. 
Somehow  the  smell  of  decaying  leather  did  not 
have  the  same  fascination  that  it  had  exercised  a 
few  moments  before.  The  setting  sun  sinking 
over  the  Probate  Office  entered  the  window  and 

21 


The  Confessions  of 

lingered  on  the  stern  old  face  of  the  Hon.  Jeremiah 
Mason  over  the  fireplace.  The  birds  twittered 
gayly  amid  the  branches  by  the  window.  Spring 
called  rne  to  the  open  air,  to  the  world  outside, 
to  the  future. 

"Give  me  fifty  dollars  and  my  ticket  to  New 
York,"  said  I. 

•          ••••••• 

It  had  so  happened  that  at  the  time  of  my  visit 
to  Mr.  Tcddleham  my  credit,  and  consequently 
my  ready  funds,  had  become  so  reduced  that  I 
had  only  a  dollar  or  two  in  my  pocket.  There 
fore  the  check  for  fifty  dollars  that  the  old  gentle 
man  had  carefully  drawn  for  me  with  his  quill 
pen  and  then  had  as  carefully  sanded  over  was 
by  no  means  inopportune.  I  took  the  shore-car 
back  over  the  Warren  Avenue  Bridge,  depressed  at 
the  thought  of  leaving  the  scene  of  my  first  ac 
quaintance  with  the  world  and  at  the  same  time 
somewhat  relieved,  in  spite  of  myself,  by  the  con 
soling  thought  that  I  should  no  longer  be  worried 
by  the  omnipresent  anxiety  of  trying  to  escape 
from  duns  and  Jews. 

Resolved  to  terminate  my  collegiate  career  in  a 
blaze  of  glory,  I  went  the  rounds  of  the  college 
buildings  and  bade  all  my  friends  to  a  grand  cele 
bration  at  the  Tavern,  where,  owing  to  the  large 

22 


Artemas  Quibble 

amount  of  trade  that  I  had  been  able  to  swing  to 
it,  my  credit  was  still  good.  Even  "Buck"  de 
Vries  was  not  forgotten,  and  without  a  suggestion 
of  my  contemplated  departure  I  entertained  my 
colleagues  royally  with  a  bowl  of  punch  brewed 
after  a  celebrated  Cambridge  recipe,  which  in  a 
decadent  age  spoke  eloquently  of  the  glories  of 
the  past.  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  highly  colored 
speech — during  which  I  must  confess  de  Vries  had 
eyed  me  in  a  somewhat  saturnine  manner — when 
the  proprietor  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and  said 
that  I  was  wanted  outside.  Excusing  myself  I 
stepped  to  the  door  only  to  be  unexpectedly  con 
fronted  by  the  local  sheriff,  who  apologetically  in 
formed  me  that  he  held  a  warrant  of  attachment 
for  my  worldly  goods  and  another  for  the  arrest 
of  my  very  worldly  person.  With  admirable  pres 
ence  of  mind  I  requested  his  patience  until  I  should 
find  my  coat,  and  returning  via  the  buttery  made 
my  escape  from  the  premises  by  means  of  the  rear 
exit.  Sic  gloria  transit !  That  night  I  slept  un 
der  the  roof  of  the  amiable  Quirk  in  Methuen,  and 
the  day  after  reached  New  York,  the  city  of  my 
future  career. 


CHAPTER  II 

MY  arrival  in  the  metropolis  was  unaccom 
panied  by  any  newspaper  comment  or  by 
any  particular  excitement  on  the  part  of  the  inhabi 
tants.  I  simply  landed,  after  a  seven  hours'  jour 
ney  from  Boston,  with  a  considerable  quantity  of 
fine  raiment — rather  too  fine,  as  I  soon  discovered, 
for  the  ordinary  uses  of  a  serious-minded,  working 
youth — some  fifty  odd  dollars,  and  a  well-developed 
bump  of  self-confidence  that  was  supported  by  a 
strong  reserve  resolution  not  to  let  anybody  get 
ahead  of  me.  I  had  all  the  assurance  of  a  man 
double  my  years  and  an  easy  way  of  making  ac 
quaintances  that  was  destined  to  stand  me  in  good 
stead,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  ad 
mitting  that  my  manners  were  offensive  or  that  I 
was  in  any  degree  supercilious.  I  was  simply  a 
good  fellow  who  had  always  enjoyed  the  comrade 
ship  of  other  good  fellows,  and  as  a  result  felt  rea 
sonably  sure  that  the  rest  of  the  world  would  treat 
him  kindly.  Moreover,  I  could  dissemble  without 
difficulty  and,  if  occasion  arose,  could  give  the 

24 


Artemas  Quibble 

impression  of  being  a  diffident  and  modest  young 
man,  ready  and  anxious  to  order  himself  "lowly 
and  humbly  before  his  betters." 

Yet  I  had  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  know  that 
unless  a  man  puts  a  high  appraisal  upon  his  attain 
ments  and  ability  no  one  else  is  likely  to  do  so, 
and  that  the  public  takes  one,  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  at  his  own  valuation.  Coming  to  the  clay 
itself:  I  wore  my  hair  rather  long,  with  an  appre 
ciable  modicum  of  bear's  grease  well  rubbed  in, 
side  whiskers  and  white  beaver,  and  carried  a  car 
pet  bag  on  which  was  embroidered  a  stag's  head  in 
yellow  on  a  background  of  green  worsted.  And 
the  principal  fact  to  be  observed  in  this  connection 
is  that,  instead  of  creating  a  smile  as  I  passed  out 
of  the  Grand  Central  Station,  I  was  probably  re 
garded  as  a  rather  smart  and  stylishly  dressed 
young  man. 

I  had  a  card  to  some  young  actors  in  the  city, 
given  me  by  my  Thespian  friends  in  Boston,  and  it 
proved  but  a  short  trip  on  the  horse-cars  down 
Fourth  Avenue  to  the  locality,  near  the  Academy 
of  Music,  then  as  now  frequented  by  the  fraternity. 
I  began  niy  professional  career,  then,  by  taking 
lodgings  in  an  actors'  boarding-house,  and  I  am 
free  to  confess  that  at  that  time  I  was  undecided 
whether  to  follow  the  bar  or  the  boards.  I  have 

25 


The  Confessions  of 

since  frequently  observed  that  the  same  qualities 
make  for  success  in  both,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  fact  that  I  found  my  new  friends  somewhat 
down  at  the  heels  and  their  rate  of  emolument  ex 
ceedingly  low,  as  well  as  for  a  certain  little  inci 
dent  to  be  recounted  shortly,  I  might  well  have 
joined  the  group  of  future  Booths  and  Forrests  that 
loitered  along  the  near-by  Rialto,  looking  for  jobs 
as  Roman  soldiers  or  footmen  in  some  coming  pro 
duction. 

But  the  change  from  my  well-appointed  lodgings 
in  Cambridge  and  my  luxurious  surroundings  at 
the  Cock  and  Spur  to  a  distinctly  shabby  theat 
rical  boarding-house,  where  the  guests  plainly 
exhibited  traces  of  the  lack  of  proper  ablutional 
facilities  and  the  hallways  smelt  of  cabbage  and 
onions,  was  a  distinct  shock  to  my  highly  sen 
sitive  tastes.  However,  my  new  acquaintances 
proved  warm-hearted  and  hospitable  and  did  ev 
erything  in  their  power  to  make  me  feel  at  my 
ease,  with  the  result  that  in  spite  of  the  cabbage 
and  the  wooden  slats  that  served  as  springs  in  my 
bed — which  nearly  rilled  the  rear  hall  bed-room  I 
had  hired  for  one  week  at  four  dollars  and  twenty- 
five  cents — I  resolved  to  postpone  entering  upon 
an  active  career  until  I  should  know  the  city  better 
and  have  made  a  few  friends. 

26 


Artemas  Quibble 

Those  of  my  new  comrades  who  were  lucky 
enough  to  have  employment  did  not  rise  in  the 
mornings  until  in  the  neighborhood  of  twelve 
o'clock,  and  those  who  had  no  employment  at 
all  followed  their  example.  I  thus  found  myself 
adopting  of  necessity,  as  it  were,  the  pleasant 
practice  of  sauntering  out  on  Broadway  after  a 
one-o'clock  breakfast,  and  of  spending  most  of  the 
afternoon,  evening,  and  following  morning  in  or 
about  the  same  locality.  We  usually  went  to  some 
theatrical  show  on  what  was  known  as  "paper," 
and  I  afterward  joined  my  actor  friends  at  a  res 
taurant,  where  we  sang  songs  and  told  stories  until 
the  gas-lamps  were  extinguished  and  gray  dawn 
crept  over  the  house-tops.  Downtown — into  the 
mysterious  district  of  Wall  Street — I  did  not,  as 
yet,  go,  and  I  might  still  be  haunting  the  stage 
entrances  of  the  theatres  had  it  not  been  for  an 
adventure  in  which  I  was  an  involuntary  partic 
ipant. 

It  so  happened  that  among  my  new  acquaint 
ances  was  a  careless,  rattle-brained  youth  known 
as  Toby  Robinson,  who  in  spite  of  some  histrionic 
ability  was  constantly  losing  his  job  and  always  in 
debt.  He  was  a  smooth-faced,  rather  stout,  good- 
natured-looking  person,  of  the  sort  who  is  never 
supposed  to  have  done  harm  to  anybody.  Not 

27 


The  Confessions  of 

long  before  he  had  enjoyed  a  salary  of  fourteen 
dollars  per  week,  but  having  overslept  several  times 
running  he  had  been  discharged  for  absence  from 
rehearsals.  He  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  re 
sources  about  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  the  city 
and  had  been  in  a  most  lugubrious  frame  of  mind 
when  I  first  had  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance. 
Suddenly,  however,  he  appeared  one  day  with  a 
large  roll  of  bills  and  enterd  upon  a  period  of  lu 
brication  and  open-handed  hospitality,  in  which 
we  all  participated.  During  this  season  of  good 
cheer,  as  Toby  and  I  were  strolling  down  Broad 
way  one  afternoon,  an  ugly  looking  man  who  had 
been  following  us  stepped  forward  and,  touching 
my  friend  on  the  shoulder,  said  gruffly: 

"The  captain  wants  to  see  you." 

The  uttering  of  these  cryptic  syllables  produced 
a  most  extraordinary  effect  upon  my  companion, 
for  he  turned  deadly  pale  and  the  perspiration  col 
lected  in  beads  upon  his  temples,  while  he  com 
menced  to  wring  his  hands  and  bemoan  his  ill 
fortune. 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  I  inquired  in  great 
solicitude. 

The  belligerent  stranger,  however,  pushing  be 
tween  us,  grasped  Toby  firmly  by  the  arm  and 
marched  him  across  the  street,  while  1  trailed  be- 

28 


Artemas  Quibble 

hind  in  the  nature  of  a  rear  guard.  I  had  already 
begun  to  suspect  that  the  ugfy  man  was  none  other 
than  an  officer  of  the  law,  and  visions  of  myself 
locked  up  in  jail  as  a  possible  accomplke,  although 
innocent  of  wrong-doing,  hovered  m  my  mind. 
Toby,  giving  every  indication  of  guilt,  slouched 
along  beside  his  captor,  occasionally  glancing 
shamefacedly  over  his  shoulder. 

We  were  now  nearing  a  police  station,  and  our 
companion,  for  the  first  time  showing  any  sign  of 
personal  interest,  inquired  if  we  had  a  lawyer.  On 
receiving  a  negative  reply,  the  officer  strongly  rec 
ommended  our  immediately  retaining  counsel  in 
the  person  of  one  Gottlieb,  who  could  be  found 
across  the  street  from  the  police  station  and  whose 
precise  whereabouts  were  made  obvious  by  means 
of  a  large  sign  about  six  feet  by  three  and  one-half 
in  size,  reading  as  follows: 


ABRAHAM  GOTTLIEB'S 

LAW   OFFICE 

NOTARY  DEEDS 

RENTS  COLLECTED  BAIL  BONDS 

INSURANCE  GENERAL  ADVICE 


Without  giving  Toby  time  for  consideration  the 
officer  kd  us  across  the  street  and  into  the  stuffy 
little  den  occupied  by  the  lawyer. 

2Q 


The  Confessions  of 

"Here's  the  gent  I  told  you  of,"  said  he,  nod 
ding  in  the  direction  of  a  hawk-faced  little  man 
smoking  a  vile  cigar,  who  was  sitting  with  his  feet 
upon  a  table.  "Til  leave  you  alone,"  he  added,  and 
sauntering  across  the  threshold,  took  his  stand  in 
front  of  the  window  outside. 

"Howdy,"  remarked  Gottlieb,  without  arising 
or  removing  his  cigar.  "Mike  tells  me  you're 
charged  with  obtaining  money  by  false  pretences." 

"What!"  gasped  Toby,  grasping  the  table  for 
support.  "False  pretences!" 

"Flying  a  bit  of  bad  paper,  eh?  Come  now, 
didn't  you  cash  a  check  on  the  Cotton  Exchange 
Bank  for  about  six  hundred  dollars  when  there  was 
only  fifteen  on  deposit  ?  Don't  try  to  bluff  me.  I 
know  your  sort.  Lucky  if  you  don't  get  ten 
years." 

"Save  me!"  wailed  Toby.  "Yes,  I  did  cash  a 
check,  come  to  think  of  it,  for  that  amount,  but 
I  had  no  idea  my  account  had  run  so  low." 

Mr.  Gottlieb  spat  into  a  sawdust  box  under  the 
table  and  winked  with  great  deliberation. 

"How  much  have  you  got  left?"  he  inquired 
indifferently. 

Toby  delved  into  his  breeches  and  with  trem 
bling  hands  produced  a  roll  of  bills  still  of  some  dig 
nity.  Gottlieb  stretched  forth  a  claw,  took  them, 


Artemas  Quibble 

placed  them  in  his  own  pocket,  and  then  swung  his 
feet  to  the  floor  with  alacrity. 

"Come  on,  my  lads,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  I'll 
show  you  how  we  get  the  sinners  off!  All  right, 
Mike."  And  he  led  the  way  across  the  street  and 
into  the  station-house,  where  poor  Toby  was 
searched  and  his  pedigree  taken  down  by  the 
clerk.  It  being  at  this  time  only  about  eleven  in 
the  morning  we  were  then  conducted  to  the  nearest 
police  court,  where  we  found  already  in  attendance 
the  unfortunate  hotel  keeper  who  had  so  unwisely 
honored  Toby's  check. 

"You  rascal!"  he  shouted,  struggling  to  reach 
my  unfortunate  friend.  "I'll  show  you  how  to 
take  other  people's  money!  I'll  put  you  where  you 
belong!"  But  the  officers  haled  him  back  and  he 
was  forced  to  restrain  himself  until  he  could  tell  his 
story  to  the  judge.  This,  it  so  happened,  was  not 
to  be  for  several  hours,  and  during  this  interval 
Gottlieb  mysteriously  vanished  and  as  mysteriously 
reappeared.  It  was  half  after  three  before  the 
judge  announced  that  he  would  take  up  Toby's 
case.  Now,  the  judge  looked  even  more  of  a  ras 
cal  than  did  Gottlieb,  which  was  paying  his  Honor 
a  high  compliment,  and  I  suspect  that  it  was  for 
this  reason  that  the  complainant  had  in  the  mean 
time  sent  round  for  his  own  lawyer  to  represent  him. 

31 


The  Confessions  of 

We  were  now  pushed  forward  and  huddled  into  a 
small  space  in  front  of  the  rail,  while  the  lawyers 
took  their  places  upon  the  platform  before  us. 

"Your  Honor,"  began  the  lawyer  for  the  hotel 
man,  "this  fellow  here  has  swindled  my  client  out 
of  six  hundred  dollars  by  inducing  him  to  cash  a 
worthless  check." 

"What  have  you  to  say,  Mr.  Gottlieb?"  asked 
the  judge. 

"Confession  and  avoidance,  your  Honor,"  re 
plied  the  attorney,  with  what  appeared  to  me  to 
be  the  slightest  possible  drawing  down  of  his  right 
eyelid.  "Confession  and  avoidance.  We  admit 
the  fact,  but  we  deny  the  imputation  of  guilt.  My 
client,  Mr.  Robinson,  whose  abilities  as  an  actor 
have  no  doubt  hitherto  given  your  Honor  much 
pleasure,  was  so  careless  as  to  forget  the  precise 
amount  of  his  bank  account  and  happened  to  draw 
a  check  for  too  large  an  amount.  No  one  was 
more  surprised  and  horrified  at  the  discovery  than 
he.  And  his  intention  is  at  once  to  reimburse  in 
full  the  complainant,  whose  action  in  having  him 
arrested  seems  most  extraordinary  and  reprehen 
sible." 

"Your  Honor,"  interrupted  the  other  lawyer, 
"were  there  the  slightest  possibility  of  any  such 
outcome  I  should  be  glad  to  withdraw  the  charge; 


Artemas  Quibble 

but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  person  is  a  worthless, 
lazy  fellow  who  has  not  a  cent  to  his  name,  and 
who  induced  my  client  to  cash  his  check  by  lead 
ing  him  to  believe  that  he  was  a  man  of  substance 
and  position.  No  doubt  he  has  spent  the  money, 
and  if  not  we  might  as  well  try  to  squeeze  it  out 
of  a  stone.  This  fellow  is  guilty  of  a  crime  and  he 
ought  to  be  punished.  I  ask  your  Honor  to  hold 
him  for  the  grand  jury." 

"Well,  Mr.  Gottlieb,"  remarked  the  judge,  "tell 
me,  if  you  can,  why  I  should  not  lock  your  client 
up.  Did  he  not  falsely  pretend,  by  requesting  the 
complainant  to  cash  the  check,  that  he  had  money 
in  the  bank  to  meet  it  ?" 

"  By  no  means,  your  Honor,"  answered  Gottlieb. 
"The  proffering  of  a  check  with  a  request  for  money 
thereon  is  merely  asking  that  the  money  be  advanced 
on  the  faith  that  the  bank  will  honor  the  demand 
made  upon  it.  One  who  cashes  a  check  does  so 
at  his  own  risk.  He  has  a  full  remedy  at  civil 
law,  and  if  the  bank  refuses  to  pay  no  crime  has 
been  committed.  This  is  not  a  case  for  the  penal 
law." 

"That  seems  reasonable,"  said  the  judge,  turn 
ing  to  the  other.  "How  do  you  make  this  out  a 
crime  ?  What  false  pretence  is  there  in  merely 
inviting  another  to  cash  a  check  ?" 

33 


The  Confessions  of 

"Why,"  answered  the  attorney,  "if  I  ask  you  to 
cash  a  check  for  me,  do  I  not  represent  that  I  have 
a  right  to  draw  upon  the  bank  for  the  amount  set 
forth  ?  If  not,  no  one  would  ever  cash  a  check. 
The  innocent  person  who  advances  the  money  has 
the  right  to  assume  that  the  borrower  is  not  offer 
ing  him  a  bad  check.  There  is  a  tacit  represen 
tation  that  the  check  is  good  or  that  the  maker  has 
funds  in  the  bank  to  meet  it." 

"True — true!"  nodded  his  Honor.  "There  is 
something  in  what  you  say.  What  answer  can 
you  make  to  that,  Brother  Gottlieb  ?" 

"  I  have  a  hundred  good  arguments,"  replied  the 
lawyer  in  a  low  tone.  Then  he  added  briskly: 
"But  the  intent, your  Honorl  There  can  be  no 
crime  without  a  wrongful  intent;  and  how  can 
there  have  been  any  such  when  my  client  honestly 
believed  that  he  had  the  money  in  the  bank  to 
meet  the  check?" 

"But/'  cried  the  other,  "he  knew  very  well  he 
had  not!" 

"What  evidence  have  you  to  that  effect?" 
queried  Gottlieb.  "You  say  so,  to  be  sure,  but  I, 
on  the  contrary,  assert  that  he  was  perfectly  honest 
in  the  matter.  Now,  there  is  absolutely  nothing 
in  this  case  to  prove  that  he  had  any  guilty  knowl 
edge  to  the  effect  that  his  account  was  too  low  to 

34 


Artemas  Quibble 

meet  the  draft  in  question.  You  have  proven  no 
scienter  whatever." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  judge.  "That  is  it!  You 
have  shown  no  scienter!" 

"Exactly!"  cried  Gottlieb — "no  scienter  at  all." 

"But  how  in  the  world  could  I  have  proved  a 
scienter?"  wrathfully  demanded  the  lawyer.  "I 
can't  pry  open  the  prisoner's  skull  and  exhibit  his 
evil  intent." 

"No,  but  you  could  have  shown  that  he  knew 
he  had  only  a  few  dollars  in  the  bank  by  the  fact 
that  he  had  previously  tried  to  cash  a  similar  check 
and  that  it  had  been  returned.  In  any  event,  my 
own  mind  is  clear  on  the  subject.  You  have  shown 
no  scienter.  The  prisoner  is  discharged." 

Poor  Toby  was  so  overcome  by  his  unexpected 
release  that  he  began  to  stammer  out  incoherent 
expressions  of  gratitude  to  the  judge,  such  as 
"Oh,  thank  you,  your  Honor!  God  bless  your 
Honor!  Thank  you,  your  Honor!  I  am  an  inno 
cent  man,  your  Honor!"  until  Gottlieb,  grasp 
ing  him  by  the  arm,  dragged  him  away  from  the 
rail  and  pushed  him  into  the  street.  The  com 
plainant  and  his  attorney  indignantly  followed  us, 
the  former  loudly  deploring  the  way  modern  justice 
was  administered.  Once  outside  Gottlieb  shook 
hands  with  Toby  and  told  him  if  he  were  ever  in 

35 


The  Confessions  of 

trouble  again  to  look  him  up  without  fail.  Toby 
promised  gratefully  to  do  so,  and  the  lawyer  was 
about  to  leave  us  and  enter  his  office  when  it 
occurred  to  me  that  he  still  had  my  friend's  roll 
of  bills. 

"But,  Mr.  Gottlieb,"  said  I,  "you  are  going  to 
return  Mr.  Robinson's  money  to  him,  are  you  not  ?" 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  growing  frightfully 
angry.  "Give  him  back  his  money!  I  have  no 
money  of  his.  It  is  he  owes  me  money  for  keeping 
him  out  of  jail." 

"But  how  about  the  roll  of  bills  ?"  I  protested. 
"You  certainly  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  of  that  ?" 

"Certainly — that  is  my  fee,"  he  retorted  calmly; 
"and  small  enough  it  is  too!" 

"How  much  was  there  in  that  roll,  Toby?"  I 
asked. 

"About  five  hundred  dollars,"  answered  my 
friend.  "But  let  him  keep  it,  by  all  means!" 

"Why,"  I  exclaimed,  "he  has  done  nothing  to 
earn  such  a  fee.  He  merely  got  up  and  said  that 
you  had  no  scienter — whatever  that  is.  It  is  not 
worth  more  than  ten  dollars!" 

"Ten  dollars!"  shouted  Gottlieb.  "Ten  dol 
lars!  Why  scienter  is  one  of  the  most  complicated 
and  technical  defences  known  to  the  law.  Ten 
dollars!  Scienter  is  worth  a  thousand!  Your  ras- 

36 


Artemas  Quibble 

cally  friend  got  his  money  for  nothing,  didn't  he  ? 
He's  lucky  to  be  outside  the  bars — for  if  I  ever  saw 
a  guilty  man  he's  one.  Get  along,  both  of  you, 
or  I'll  call  an  officer!" 

And  with  that  Gottlieb  slipped  inside  his  office 
and  banged  the  door. 

"Come  along,  Quib!"  urged  Toby;  "there's  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  what  he  says.  I  don't  be 
grudge  it  to  him.  It  was  well  worth  it  to  me." 

"Lord!"  I  groaned.  "Five  hundred  dollars 
just  for  scienter.  If  that  is  the  law,  then  I'll  turn 
lawyer." 

And  with  that  idea  growing  more  firmly  each 
moment  in  my  mind  I  returned  to  the  boarding- 
house  with  my  friend. 


CHAPTER  III 

1AM  free  to  confess  that  the  ease  with  which 
Counsellor  Gottlieb  had  deprived  my  friend 
Toby  of  the  ill-gotten  proceeds  of  his  check — or, 
for  his  sake  putting  it  more  politely,  had  earned 
his  fee — was  the  chief  and  inducing  cause  that 
led  me  to  adopt  the  law  as  a  career.  I  shall  not 
pretend  that  I  had  any  lofty  aims  or  ambitions, 
felt  any  regard  for  its  dignity  or  fascination  for  the 
mysteries  of  its  science  when  I  selected  it  for  my 
profession.  My  objects  were  practical — my  am 
bition  to  get  the  largest  financial  return  consonant 
with  the  least  amount  of  work.  My  one  concrete 
experience  of  the  law  had  opened  my  eyes  to  its 
possibilities  in  a  way  that  I  had  never  dreamed  of, 
and  I  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  placing  myself  in 
a  position  to  rescue  others  from  harm  on  the  same 
pecuniary  basis  as  did  Mr.  Gottlieb. 

Of  course  I  realized  that  I  must  serve  an  ap 
prenticeship,  and  indeed  the  law  required  that 
were  I  not  a  graduate  of  a  law  school  I  must  have 
worked  as  a  clerk  for  two  years  before  I  could  be 

3* 


Artemas  Quibble 

admitted  to  the  bar.  Accordingly  I  began  to 
make  inquiries  as  to  what  were  the  best  law  firms 
in  the  city,  and  before  long  had  acquired  pretty 
definite  information  as  to  who  were  and  who  were 
not  in  high  standing.  Now,  I  had  no  letters  of 
introduction  and  nothing  to  recommend  me  except 
a  certain  degree  of  maturity  and  a  cultivated  man 
ner  of  speaking,  and  I  might  and  probably  should 
have  been  trying  to  this  day  to  break  into  some 
sedate  and  high-toned  old-fogy  office  had  it  not 
been  for  one  of  those  accidents  with  which  my 
career  has  been  replete. 

I  had  visited  all  the  firms  on  my  list  without 
finding  any  who  wanted  to  take  in  a  student.  In 
deed  all  the  offices  seemed  filled  if  not  crowded  with 
studious-looking  young  men  whose  noses  were 
buried  in  law  books.  In  one  or  two,  to  be  sure,  I 
might  have  secured  admittance  and  been  given 
desk  room  in  exchange  for  the  services  of  my  legs 
as  a  runner  of  errands  and  a  server  of  papers,  but 
none  had  any  idea  of  paying  anything.  The  pro 
fession  at  the  bottom  was  more  overcrowded  than 
the  gallery  of  the  Academy  of  Music  when  they 
ran  Rosedale.  Each  night  as  I  returned  to  my 
lodgings  I  felt  more  and  more  discouraged.  Its 
smell  of  cabbage  came  to  have  for  me  an  inexpres 
sible  sensation  of  relief,  of  protection,  even  of 

39 


The  Confessions  of 

luxury.  Here,  at  any  rate,  even  in  an  actors' 
boarding-hotise,  I  was  independent,  as  good  as  any 
body,  and  not  regarded  as  if  I  were  a  beggar  on  the 
one  hand  or  a  questionable  character  on  the  other. 

How  long  this  might  have  continued  I  have  no 
means  of  knowing,  but  one  afternoon  as  I  was 
trudging  uptown,  still  holding  in  my  hand  a  copy 
of  a  legal  journal,  the  advertisements  in  which  I 
had  been  engaged  in  sedulously  running  down,  my 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  crowd  gathered  in 
the  street  around  a  young  man  who  had  been  so 
unfortunate  as  to  be  run  over  by  a  stage.  There 
was  nothing  external  to  indicate  the  extent  of  his 
injuries,  and  as  I  drew  nearer  two  persons  assisted 
him  to  his  feet  and  began  to  lead  him  toward  the 
nearest  store.  Having  nothing  better  to  do  I 
walked  along  with  them,  and  after  they  had  gone 
inside  remained  looking  curiously  through  the  win 
dow.  While  I  was  thus  engaged  a  stout,  bustling 
man  of  about  forty  years  of  age  carne  hurrying 
down  the  sidewalk  and  turned  to  enter  the  store. 
As  he  did  so  he  observed  me  apparently  waiting 
there  and  his  eye  with  a  quick  glance  took  in 
the  title  of  the  paper  in  my  hand.  Instantly  he 
stepped  up  beside  me  and  tapping  me  on  the  arm 
said  in  a  low  tone: 

"Whom  do  you  represent  ?" 
40 


Artemas  Quibble 

I  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by  this  inquiry,  not 
seeing  at  the  moment  its  immediate  relation  to  the 
business  in  hand,  but  for  want  of  a  better  answer 
I  replied  in  the  same  spirit: 

"Artemas  Quibble." 

"Oh!  Quibble,  eh!  I've  heard  of  him.  But 
look  here,  my  young  friend,  there  is  no  reason  why 
honest  men  should  cut  one  another's  throats.  Tell 
my  friend  Quibble  I  was  here  before  ye  and  keep 
this  for  yourself." 

And  with  that  he  peeled  a  twenty-dollar  bill 
from  the  top  of  a  heavy  roll  that  he  producd  from 
his  pocket  and  placed  it  within  my  palm. 

"Very  good,"  said  I.  "It  may  cost  me  dear  if 
Quibble  hears  of  it;  but  a  man  must  live,  and  I 
work  at  starvation  wages." 

I  placed  the  bill  in  my  breast  pocket  and  made 
way  for  him  to  enter  the  store,  which  he  did  without 
more  ado.  Why  this  busy  gentleman  should  gra 
tuitously  present  me  with  twenty  dollars  did  not  at 
the  moment  occur  to  me.  I  continued  on  my  way 
northward,  pondering  upon  the  question,  and 
passed  the  street  upon  which  the  police  court  was 
located  and  Counsellor  Gottlieb  had  his  office. 
The  thought  came  into  my  mind  that  here  was  the 
very  person  to  shed  light  upon  the  subject  and  I 
turned  the  corner  and  opened  the  door.  Gottlieb 

41 


The  Confessions  of 

was  in  his  customary  position  with  his  feet  elevated 
upon  the  table  before  him. 

"Well/*  he  said,  "I  didn't  expect  you  back  so 


soon." 


"I've  come  for  free  advice  this  time,"  I  an 
swered  smiling. 

"Oh,"  he  grunted.  "Well,  in  that  case  perhaps 
you  won't  get  it." 

Somehow  I  had  taken  a  shine  to  the  fellow,  for 
all  his  robbery  of  poor  Toby,  and  I  admired  his 
quickness  of  perception  and  readiness  of  speech. 
Perhaps  he  too  felt  not  unkindly  toward  me.  At 
any  rate  I  told  him  my  story. 

"Now,"  says  I,  "what  d'ye  make  of  it?'* 

Gottlieb  laughed. 

"Was  he  a  fat  little  turkey  with  gray  eyes  I"  he 
inquired. 

"The  same,"  I  replied. 

"Then  it  was  Tom  Kelly,"  he  answered.  "On 
his  daily  still  hunt  for  the  maimed,  the  halt  and 
the  blind.  You  say  the  chap  had  been  run  over 
by  the  stage?  Well,  Tom'll  take  his  case  on  a 
contingent  fee — fifty  per  cent,  to  Tom  and  fifty  per 
cent,  to  the  client  of  all  that  comes  of  it — bring  an 
action  against  the  stage  line  and  recover  heavy 
damages.  Oh,  it's  terrible  to  think  what  that 
poor  injured  young  man  will  suffer.  To-day  he 

42 


Artemas  Quibble 

may  feel  quite  well,  but  to-morrow  he  will  have  all 
kinds  of  pains  in  his  head  and  eyes,  his  spine  will 
ache,  he  will  experience  symptoms  of  a  nervous 
breakdown.  He  will  retire  to  bed  and  not  emerge 
for  six  months,  and  when  he  does  he'll  be  a  hope 
less  and  helpless  cripple  for  life.  Tom  is  an  artist, 
he  is,  in  his  own  line.  They  tell  me  he  made  sixty 
thousand  last  year  out  of  his  accident  practice 
alone.  Why,  the  case  he  gave  you  twenty  to  keep 
out  of  may  net  him  five  thousand  dollars." 

"If  Fd  known  that  it  would  have  cost  him 
fifty V9  I  said,  feeling  that  an  unjust  advantage 
had  been  taken  of  me. 

"Twenty  is  the  regular  rate,"  answered  Gottlieb. 
"There  are  too  many  chances  to  make  it  worth 
much  more  merely  to  get  the  other  fellow  out  of 
the  way.  Sometimes,  though,  I've  paid  as  high  as 
fifteen  hundred  for  a  case." 

"Fifteen  hundred!"  exclaimed  I. 

"Yes,  and  got  a  verdict  of  nineteen  thousand,  of 
which  I  pocketed  ninety-five  hundred  and  four 
hundred  dollars  costs  besides." 

"Whew!"  I  whistled. 

"Oh,  there's  pretty  good  pickings  on  occasion 
even  for  a  police-court  lawyer,"  he  continued;  "  but 
it's  nothin*  to  the  return  from  what  I  might  call 
legitimate  practice.  Now,  there's  old  Haight,  of 

43 


The  Confessions  of 

Haight  &  Foster,  for  instance.  He  gets  half  a 
dozen  twenty-thousand-dollar  fees  every  year,  and 
all  he  has  is  a  strictly  old-fashioned  probate  and 
real-estate  practice  and  a  little  of  this  new-fangled 
railroad  business.  My  great  regret  is  that  I  didn't 
stick  to  regular  trade  instead  of  going  after  easy 
money.  Who's  Gottlieb  now?  Just  a  police- 
court  lawyer,  when  he  might  be  arguing  before  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States!  My  brain's 
just  as  good  as  Haight's.  I've  licked  him  many  a 
time  in  my  young  days.  And  then  I  get  tired  of  all 
this  hogwash!  I  tell  you  it's  dirty  business,  most 
ofitl" 

"Well/*  I  answered,  remembering  "scienter," 
"  I've  no  doubt  that  you  could  beat  them  all.  But 
I  fancy  you  have  nothing  to  complain  of  in  the 
way  of  returns,  yourself.  What  worries  me  is  how 
to  get  any  start  at  all.  I've  tried  half  the  law 
offices  in  town." 

Gottlieb  listened  with  some  interest  as  I  outlined 
my  experiences. 

"But,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  didn't  go  to  the 
right  person.  You  should  have  tackled  the  head 
of  the  firm  himself.  Find  some  sort  of  an  introduc 
tion.  Flatter  him.  Offer  to  work  for  nothing — 
and,  trust  me,  he'll  have  you.  Now,  my  advice  is 
to  go  straight  to  old  Haight  and  make  up  your 

44 


Artemas  Quibble 

mind  to  get  into  his  office  willy-nilly.  It'll  be 
worth  three  thousand  a  year  to  you  to  graduate 
from  there.  It'll  give  you  the  tone  you  need  in  the 
profession.  There  are  two  qualities  that  make  for 
the  highest  success  in  the  law — honesty  and  dis 
honesty.  To  get  ahead  you  must  have  one  or  the 
other.  You  must  either  be  so  irreproachable  in 
your  conduct  and  elevated  in  your  ideals  that  your 
reputation  for  virtue  becomes  your  chief  asset,  or, 
on  the  other  hand,  so  crooked  that  your  very  dis 
honesty  makes  you  invaluable  to  your  clients. 
Both  kinds  of  lawyers  are  equally  in  demand. 
Some  cases  require  respectability  and  some  dirty 
work.  But  the  crooked  lawyer  has  got  to  be  so 
crooked  that  everybody  is  afraid  of  him,  even  the 
judge.  Now,  the  trouble  with  me  is  that  Pm  too 
honest.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  were  a  crook  like 
the  rest  of  them!" 

He  sighed  deeply  and  slowly  drew  down  his  left 
eyelid. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Gottlieb,"  said  I,  suppressing 
an  inclination  to  smile.  "I'll  take  your  advice. 
Perhaps  you'll  let  me  talk  to  you  again  later  on." 

"Come  as  often  as  you  like,"  he  replied.  "And 
look  you,  young-feller-me-lad,  I'll  give  you  half  of 
all  the  profits  I  make  out  of  any  business  you  bring 
me.  You  don't  have  to  be  a  lawyer  to  get  clients. 

45 


The  Confessions  of 

Hustle  around  among  your  friends  and  drum  up 
some  trade  and  you'll  do  almost  as  well  as  if  you 
could  try  cases  yourself.  For  every  dollar  I  earn 
you  get  another.  Is  it  a  go  ?" 

"Surely!"  I  cried.  "And  if  I'm  not  very  much 
mistaken  I'll  not  be  long  about  it,  for  I  have  an 
idea  or  two  in  my  head  already." 

The  next  day  I  again  presented  myself  at  the 
office  of  Haight  &  Foster,  where  I  had  already 
applied  for  a  position  to  the  chief  clerk.  This  time 
I  asked  for  the  head  of  the  firm  himself,  and  I  was 
amused  to  see  that  whereas  before  I  had  been 
almost  kicked  out  of  the  office,  I  was  now  treated 
with  the  respect  due  to  a  possible  client.  After  a 
wait  of  some  twenty  minutes  I  was  ushered  into  a 
large  sunny  office  lined  with  books  and  overlooking 
the  lower  East  River.  Mr.  Haight  was  a  wrinkled 
old  man  with  a  bald  scalp  covered  with  numerous 
brown  patches  about  the  size  of  ten-cent  pieces.  A 
fringe  of  white  hair  hung  about  his  ears,  over  one  of 
which  was  stuck  a  goose-quill  pen.  He  looked  up 
from  his  desk  as  I  entered  and  eyed  me  sharply. 

"Well,  Mr.  Quibble,"  he  began  gruffly,  as  if  he 
were  about  to  add  "out  with  what  you  have  to  say, 
young  man,  and  be  gone  as  soon  as  possible!" 

"Mr.  Haight,"  said  I  with  great  deference,  "I 
have  called  on  you  at  the  suggestion  of  my  guardian 


Artemas  Quibble 

and  trustee,  Mr.  Tuckerman  Toddleham,  of  Bar 
risters'  Hall,  Boston,  to  inquire  whether  I  may  not 
be  allowed  the  great  privilege  of  a  desk  in  your 
office.  I  am  a  Harvard  man,  born  in  Salem,  and 
of  an  old  Massachusetts  family.  Ever  since  I 
made  up  my  mind  as  a  boy  to  enter  the  law  it  has 
been  my  ambition  to  study  in  your  office;  and,  I 
may  add,  it  is  also  the  earnest  hope  of  my  guardian, 
Mr.  Toddleham." 

"Do  you  refer  to  the  Mr. Toddleham  of 'Toddle- 
ham  on  Perpetuities'  ?"  he  asked  with  some  interest. 

"The  same,"  I  answered,  for  although  I  had 
never  heard  of  the  work  in  question,  it  seemed 
just  the  sort  for  old  Toddleham's  production. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Quibble,"  he 
exclaimed,  extending  his  hand.  "I  have  often 
wished  that  I  could  meet  your  guardian  and  ask 
the  great  Mr.  Toddleham  face  to  face  what  he 
really  thinks  of  the  Rule  in  Shelley's  Case — what 
do  you  think  of  it  ?  What  was  the  Rule  in  Shel 
ley's  Case,  may  I  ask?" 

Now,  I  had  never  heard  of  the  rule  in  question, 
so  for  want  of  a  better  answer  I  replied: 

"The  law  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  I  suppose 
the  rule  was  the  same  in  his  case  as  In  any  other" 

Mr.  Haight  looked  at  me  strangely  for  a  moment 
and  suddenly  began  to  chuckle.  Then  he  eyed  me 

47 


The  Confessions  of 

again  and  chuckled  still  more.  Finally  he  laid 
aside  all  modesty  and  hugged  himself  with  de 
light. 

"I  see  that  you  are  a  man  o$  esprit!"  he  remarked 
between  spasms.  "I  shall  be  glad  to  take  you  into 
my  office.  You  may  go  and  introduce  yourself  to 
Mr.  Spruggins,  the  chief  clerk." 

Thus  it  was  that  I  secured  my  first  slender 
foothold  at  the  bar  of  New  York,  and  it  was  not 
for  several  years  that  I  discovered  that  the  Toddle- 
ham  who  had  written  the  book  on  Perpetuities  was 
an  entirely  different  person,  belonging  to  another 
branch  of  the  family. 

Of  course  I  received  no  compensation  for  my 
services  at  Haight  &  Foster's,  but  that  was  the 
customary  rule  with  all  students.  As  a  result  we 
were  not  strictly  tied  down  in  our  attendance  at  the 
office.  I  really  believe  it  would  have  been  cheaper 
for  the  firm  to  have  paid  a  small  salary  to  their 
clerks,  for  it  would  then  have  been  in  a  position  to 
demand  much  more  of  them  in  return.  As  it  was 
I  found  myself  able  to  come  and  go  about  as  I 
chose,  and  being  obliged  to  support  myself  in  some 
way  my  attendance  at  the  office  was  quite  irregu 
lar.  But  I  was  started  at  last  and  belonged  some 
where.  No  longer  was  it  necessary  for  me  to 
wander  about  the  streets  looking  for  a  place  to 


"3 

£ 

'bb 


Artemas  Quibble 

hang  my  hat,  and  I  already  had  schemes  in  mind 
whereby  I  was  soon  to  become  rich. 

My  associates  in  the  office  were  all  scholarly, 
respectable  young  men,  most  of  them  law-school 
graduates  and  scions  of  well-known  families,  and 
I  was  not  insensible  to  the  advantage  to  me  that 
my  connection  with  them  might  be  later  on.  It 
was  essential  that  I  should  impress  them  and  the 
firm  with  my  seriousness  of  purpose,  and  so  I  made 
it  a  point,  unpleasant  as  I  found  it,  to  be  on  hand 
at  the  office  every  morning  promptly  at  eight- 
thirty  o'clock,  ready  to  arrange  papers  or  serve 
them,  and  to  be  of  any  assistance,  no  matter  how 
menial,  to  Mr.  Spruggins,  whose  sense  of  dignity  I 
took  pains  to  flatter  in  every  way  possible.  In 
the  afternoon,  however,  I  slipped  away  on  the  pre 
text  of  having  to  go  uptown  to  study,  but  in  point 
of  fact  in  order  to  earn  enough  money  to  pay  for 
my  board  and  lodging. 

I  had  been  cogitating  several  ideas  since  I  had 
visited  Gottlieb,  and  the  one  that  appealed  to  me 
the  most  was  that  of  procuring  of  business  for 
other  lawyers  upon  a  percentage  basis.  I  rea 
soned  that  there  must  be  several  hundred  thousand 
people  in  the  city  who  had  no  acquaintance  with 
lawyers  and  would  be  as  ready  to  consult  one  as 
another.  Reputable  lawyers  did  not  advertise,  to 

49 


The  Confessions  of 

be  sure,  but  I  was  not  yet  a  lawyer,  and  hence  many 
courses  were  open  to  me  at  this  stage  in  my  career 
that  would  be  closed  later  on.  I  had  considerable 
confidence  in  my  own  persuasive  ability  and  felt 
that  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  before  I  could 
drum  up  a  substantial  amount  of  business.  Ac 
cordingly  I  had  a  few  cards  neatly  printed  on 
glossed  board  reading: 


MR.  ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE 

BROADWAY 

OP 

HAIGHT  &  FOSTER  Contracts 

ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW  Mortgages 

10  WALL   STREET  Tax  Matters 

NEW  YORK  CITY  General  Advice 


The  Haight  &  Foster  end  of  the  card  was  done 
in  very  heavy  type,  while  my  own  name  was  com 
paratively  inconspicuous.  Further  to  assist  my 
plans  I  rented  a  tiny  office  not  far  from  Madison 
Square  for  the  sum  of  two  dollars  per  week  and 
furnished  it  with  a  table,  two  chairs,  and  an  ink 
pot.  The  door  bore  the  inscription: 


OFFICE  OF 
ARTEMAS  QUIBBLE,  ESQ. 

COUNSELLOR 


The  reader  will  observe  that  not  being  authorized 
as  yet  to  practice  as  an  attorney  I  was  scrupulous 

5° 


Artemas  Quibble 

not  to  hold  myself  out  as  one.  "  Counsellor"  might 
mean  anything.  Certainly  I  had  the  right  to  give 
counsel  to  such  as  desired  it.  Here  I  might  be 
found  at  and  after  half-past  one  of  every  day, 
having  already  done  five  hours'  work  at  the  office 
of  Haight  &  Foster.  I  still  had  enough  funds  to 
carry  me  for  some  three  weeks  and  so  felt  no  im 
mediate  anxiety  as  to  the  future,  but  I  realized  that 
I  must  lose  no  time  in  getting  out  my  tentacles  if  I 
were  to  drag  in  any  business.  Accordingly  I  made 
myself  acquainted  with  the  managers  and  clerks  of 
the  neighboring  hotels,  giving  them  the  impression, 
so  far  as  I  could,  that  Haight  &  Foster  had  opened 
an  uptown  office  and  that  I  was  in  charge  of  it.  I 
made  friends  also  with  the  proprietors  and  barkeep 
ers  of  the  adjacent  saloons,  of  which  there  were  not 
a  few,  and  left  plenty  of  my  cards  with  them  for 
distribution  to  such  of  their  customers  as  might 
need  legal  assistance,  in  each  case  promising  that 
any  business  which  they  secured  would  be  liberally 
rewarded.  In  short,  I  made  myself  generally  known 
in  the  locality  and  planted  the  seed  of  cupidity  in 
the  hearts  of  several  hundreds  of  impecunious  per 
sons.  It  was  very  necessary  for  me  to  net  ten  dol 
lars  per  week  to  live,  and  under  the  circumstances 
it  seemed  reasonable  to  believe  that  I  could  do  so. 
Almost  at  the  outset  I  had  a  piece  of  luck,  for  a 
guest  at  a  Fifth  Avenue  hotel  was  suddenly  stricken 

51 


The  Confessions  of 

with  a  severe  illness  and  desired  to  make  a  will. 
It  was  but  a  few  days  after  I  had  called  upon  the 
manager,  and,  having  me  fresh  in  his  mind,  he  sent 
for  me.  The  sick  man  proved  to  be  a  wealthy 
Californian  who  was  too  far  gone  to  care  who  drew 
his  will  so  long  as  it  was  drawn  at  all,  and  I  jotted 
down  his  bequests  and  desires  by  his  bedside.  I 
had  originally  intended  to  go  at  once  to  Mr.  Haight 
and  turn  the  matter  over  to  him,  but  my  client 
seemed  so  ill  that  it  appeared  hardly  necessary.  I 
persuaded  myself  with  the  argument  that  the  affair 
required  a  more  immediate  attention  than  the  office 
could  give,  and  accordingly  decided  to  draw  the 
will  myself  and  incidentally  to  earn  the  whole  fee. 
The  proceeding  seemed  honest  enough,  since,  al 
though  I  had  been  introduced  as  representing 
Haight  &  Foster,  the  sick  man  had  never  heard 
of  them  before  and  obviously  did  not  care  one  way 
or  the  other. 

I  had  never  drawn  a  will  or  any  other  legal 
paper,  but  I  lost  no  time  in  slipping  around  to 
Gottlieb's  office  and  borrowing  a  work  on  surro 
gates'  practice,  including  forms,  with  which  under 
my  arm  I  hurried  back  to  my  office.  Here  after 
a  good  many  unsuccessful  attempts  I  produced  a 
document  sufficiently  technical  to  satisfy  almost 
any  layman  and  probably  calculated  to  defeat 

52 


Artemas  Quibble 

every  wish  of  the  testator.  Of  this,  however,  I  was 
quite  ignorant,  and  do  myself  the  justice  to  say 
that,  had  not  that  been  the  case,  I  would  not  have 
attempted  what  I  now  know  to  have  been  an  im 
possible  task  for  one  of  my  lack  of  legal  education. 
I  carefully  engrossed  the  will  in  long  hand  on  fresh 
foolscap,  ornamentd  it  with  seals  and  ribbons  and, 
returning  to  the  hotel,  superintended  its  execution. 
My  client  asked  me  how  much  was  my  fee  and  I 
modestly  replied — as  I  never  expected  to  see  him 
again  this  side  of  the  grave — that  my  charge  would 
be  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  He  nodded,  and 
indicating  his  pocketbook,  told  me  to  help  myself, 
which  I  did,  regretting  not  having  asked  for  more. 
That  night  he  died,  and  my  impromptu  will  was 
forwarded  to  California  and  became  the  subject 
of  a  litigation  lasting  over  eleven  years  and  costing 
several  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

It  thus  happened  that  my  eagerness  to  begin  to 
build  up  my  material  fortunes,  coupled  with  the 
necessity  of  having  a  techincal  connection  with  a 
regular  firm  of  lawyers,  resulted  in  my  leading  a 
sort  of  double  legal  existence.  In  the  morning  I 
was  a  mere  drudge  or  office  devil,  in  the  afternoon 
I  was  Counsellor  Quibble,  head  of  his  own  office 
and  my  own  master.  Having  now  a  captial  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  I  was  in  a  position  to 

53 


The  Confessions  of 

put  one  of  my  schemes  into  practice,  and  accord 
ingly  I  drew  up  with  great  care  the  following  instru 
ment,  copies  of  which  I  had  struck  off  by  a  theatri 
cal  job  printer  near  by: 

THIS  AGREEMENT  made  this day  of ,  1878, 

between ,  of  the    City 

and  County  of  New  York,  party  of  the  first  part,  and 
Artemas  Quibble,  Esquire,  of  the  same,  party  of  the 
second  part,  WITNESSETH: 

That  the  said  party  of  the  first  part  in  consideration  of 
one  dollar  to  him  in  hand  paid  upon  the  first  day  of  each 
month  by  the  party  of  the  second  part,  hereby  covenants 
and  agrees  to  employ  at  a  reduced  rate  the  said  party  of 
the  second  part  to  look  after  all  legal  matters  that  may 
arise  in  his  business  and  to  recommend  said  party  of  the 
second  part  to  his  friends  and  acquaintances  as  a  suitable 
person  to  perform  the  like  services  for  them;  in  the  latter 
event  the  said  party  of  the  first  part  to  receive  as  a  further 
consideration  a  commission  of  one-third  of  the  fees  of  the 
party  of  the  second  part  procured  therefrom. 

IN  WITNESS  WHEREOF  we  have  hereunto 

set  our  hands  and  seals  the  day  and  year 

above  named. 

(*) 

(*) 

Armed  with  these  insinuating  documents  I  pro 
cured  a  fresh  roll  of  one  hundred  one-dollar  bills 
and  set  forth  to  interview  all  whose  acquaintance 
I  had  made  in  the  course  of  my  brief  residence  in 

54 


Artemas  Quibble 

the  city.  My  argument  ran  thus:  Almost  anybody 
would  be  willing  to  receive  a  dollar  every  month  in 
return  for  a  service  that  would  cost  him  nothing. 
With  an  outlay  of  one  hundred  dollars  I  could  have 
a  hundred  persons  virtually  in  my  employ  trying  to 
get  me  business.  After  the  first  month  I  could  dis 
continue  with  those  who  seemed  likely  to  prove  un- 
remunerative.  Almost  any  case  would  return  in 
fees  as  much  as  my  original  disbursement.  On  the 
whole  it  seemed  a  pretty  safe  investment  and  the 
formal-looking  contract  would  tend  to  increase  the 
sense  of  obligation  upon  the  contracting  party  of 
the  first  part.  Nor  did  my  forecast  of  the  proba 
bilities  prove  at  all  wide  of  the  mark.  Practically 
every  one  to  whom  I  put  the  proposition  readily 
accepted  my  dollar  and  signed  the  agreement,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  week  my  one  hundred  dollars  had 
been  distributed  among  all  the  cab  drivers,  con 
ductors,  waiters,  elevator  men,  clerks,  bartenders, 
actors,  hall  boys,  and  storekeepers  that  I  knew  or 
with  whom  I  could  scrape  an  acquaintance.  None 
of  them  expected  to  have  any  business  of  their  own 
and  all  welcomed  with  delight  the  idea  of  profiting 
by  the  misfortunes  of  their  friends. 

I  had  often  lost  or  won  at  a  single  sitting  at  cards 
a  much  larger  sum  than  the  one  I  was  now  risking 
in  what  seemed  an  excellent  business  proposition, 

55 


The  Confessions  of 

so  that  the  money  involved  caused  me  no  uneasiness. 
Besides,  I  had  fifty  dollars  left  in  my  pocket.  Mean 
time  I  spent  my  evenings  in  my  office  reading  Black- 
stone  and  such  text-books  as  I  cared  to  borrow 
from  the  well-equipped  library  of  my  employers. 

Business  came,  however,  with  unexpected 
promptitude.  At  the  end  of  the  first  week  I  had 
received  calls  from  two  actors  who  desired  to  sue 
their  managers  for  damages  for  breach  of  contract, 
five  waiters  who  wished  to  bring  actions  for  wages 
due,  an  actress  who  wanted  a  separation  from  her 
husband,  a  bartender  who  was  charged  with  as 
sault  for  knocking  the  teeth  of  an  unruly  customer 
down  his  throat,  and  a  boy  whose  leg  had  been 
caught  under  an  elevator  and  crushed.  Each  of 
these  I  made  sign  an  agreement  that  I  should  re 
ceive  half  of  any  sum  recovered  in  consideration 
for  seeing  that  they  received  proper  legal  advice 
and  service,  and  each  of  them  I  sent  over  to  Coun 
sellor  Gottlieb,  with  whom  I  executed  a  mutual 
contract  to  divide  evenly  the  fees  received. 

The  reader  will  notice  that  I  did  not  technically 
hold  myself  out  as  a  lawyer  in  these  contracts,  and 
merely  agreed  to  furnish  counsel.  Thus  I  flattered 
myself  I  was  keeping  on  the  lee  side  of  the  law. 
Gottlieb  settled  the  case  of  the  boy  for  twelve  hun 
dred  dollars,  and  we  divided  six  hundred  between 

56 


Artemas  Quibble 

us,  and  the  other  cases  that  came  in  the  first  month 
netted  us  three  hundred  dollars  apiece  more.  The 
future  began  to  look  bright  enough,  as  I  had  to 
distribute  as  commissions  only  two  hundred  dol 
lars,  which  left  me  a  gross  profit  of  four  hundred 
dollars.  With  this  I  secured  fifty  new  contracts, 
and  after  paying  the  second  instalments  upon  all 
the  first  I  pocketed  as  a  net  result  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  cash.  I  now  had  a  growing  business 
at  my  back,  finding  it  necessary  to  employ  an  office 
assistant,  and  accordingly  selected  for  that  purpose 
an  old  actor  who  was  no  longer  able  to  walk  the 
boards,  but  who  still  retained  the  ability  to  speak 
his  part.  For  a  weekly  wage  of  ten  dollars  this 
elderly  gentleman  agreed  to  sit  in  my  office  and 
hold  forth  upon  my  ability,  shrewdness,  and  learn 
ing  to  all  such  as  called  in  my  absence.  In  the 
afternoons  I  assumed  charge  myself  and  sent  him 
forth  armed  with  contracts  to  secure  new  allies. 

My  business  soon  increased  to  such  an  extent 
that  it  bid  fair  to  take  up  all  my  time,  and  the 
bookkeeping  end  of  it,  with  its  complicated  divi 
sion  of  receipts,  proved  not  a  little  difficult.  The 
amazement  of  my  friend  Gottlieb  knew  no  bounds, 
but  as  it  was  a  profitable  arrangement  for  him  he 
asked  no  questions  and  remained  in  ignorance  as 
to  the  source  of  my  stream  of  clients,  until  one  of 

57 


The  Confessions  of 

his  friends,  to  whom  my  assistant  had  made  ap 
plication,  showed  him  one  of  the  contracts.  That 
night  he  sent  for  me  to  come  to  his  office,  and  after 
offering  me  a  very  large  and  exceedingly  good 
Havana  cigar  delivered  himself  as  follows: 

"  Harkee,  Quib,  you  are  more  of  a  fellow  than  I 
took  you  for.  You  have  more  cleverness  than  any 
man  of  your  years  in  my  acquaintance  at  the  bar. 
This  scheme  of  yours,  now,  it's  a  veritable  gold 
mine.  Not  but  that  anybody  could  make  use  of 
it.  It  can't  be  patented,  you  know.  But  it's  excel 
lently  devised ;  no  one  will  deny  that.  What  do  you 
say  to  a  partnership,  eh  ?  On  the  same  terms  ?" 

Now,  I  had  more  than  once  thought  of  the  same 
thing  myself,  but  the  idea  of  associating  myself  in 
business  with  an  out-and-out  criminal  attorney  had 
to  my  mind  serious  drawbacks.  We  discussed  the 
matter  at  length,  however,  and  Gottlieb  pointed 
out  very  wisely  that  I  was  running  a  great  risk  in 
distributing  broadcast  cards  upon  which  appeared 
the  unauthorized  name  of  Haight  &  Foster,  as 
well  as  in  conducting  an  office  under  my  own  name, 
when  in  fact  I  was  but  an  attorney's  clerk  down 
town.  My  connection  and  association  with  such  a 
reputable  firm  was  an  asset  not  to  be  jeopardized 
lightly,  and  he  advised  my  withdrawing  so  far  as  I 
could  all  my  cards  from  circulation  and  conduct* 

58 


Artemas  Quibble 

ing  my  business  sub  rosa.  In  the  end  we  came  to 
an  understanding  which  we  reduced  to  writing.  I 
was  to  become  a  silent  partner  in  Gottlieb's  busi 
ness  and  my  office  was  to  become  a  branch  of  his, 
my  own  name  being  entirely  in  abeyance.  On  the 
whole,  this  arrangement  pleased  me  very  well,  as 
under  it  I  ran  practically  no  risk  of  having  my 
activities  discovered  by  my  employers. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  know  just  in  what 
order  to  present  these  memoirs  to  the  reader,  for 
from  this  time  on  my  life  became  a  very  varied  one. 
Had  I  the  time  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to 
paint  for  my  own  satisfaction  an  old-fashioned  law 
office  as  it  was  conducted  in  the  'seventies — its  in 
sistent  note  of  established  respectability,  the  sup 
pressed  voices  of  its  young  men,  their  obvious  po 
liteness  to  each  other  and  deference  to  clients,  their 
horror  at  anything  vulgar,  the  quiet,  the  irritating 
quiet,  Mr.  Wigger's  red  wig — he  was  the  engross 
ing  clerk — the  lifelessness  of  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  as  if  nothing  real  ever  happened  there,  and 
as  if  the  cases  we  prepared  and  tried  were  of  inter 
est  only  on  account  of  the  legal  points  involved. 
When  I  was  there,  filing  papers  in  their  dusty  pack 
ages,  I  used  to  feel  as  though  I  were  fumbling 
among  the  dust  of  clients  long  since  dead  and  gone. 
The  place  stifled  and  depressed  me.  I  longed  for 

59 


The  Confessions  of 

red  blood  and  real  life.  There  I  was,  acting  as  a 
clerk  on  nothing  a  year,  when  uptown  I  was  in  the 
centre  of  the  whirlpool  of  existence.  It  was  with 
ill-concealed  gratification  that  I  used  daily  at  one 
o'clock  to  enter  the  library,  bow  to  whatever  mem 
ber  of  the  firm  happened  to  be  there,  remove  a 
book  from  the  shelves  and  slip  out  of  the  door.  A 
horse-car  dropped  me  in  half  an  hour  at  a  hotel 
near  my  ofHce.  After  I  had  snatched  a  sandwich 
and  cup  of  coffee  in  the  cafe  I  would  dash  up  to 
my  office — the  door  of  which  now  bore  the  lettering: 


ABRAHAM  GOTTLIEB 

ATTORNEY    &    COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW 
BRANCH  OFFICE 

SIDDONS  KELLY,  MANAGER 


Siddons  Kelly  was  the  superannuated  actor  of 
whom  I  have  already  spoken,  and  when  he  was 
not,  so  to  speak,  in  drink  he  was  an  invaluable  per 
son.  He  had  followed  the  stage  all  his  life,  but  he 
was  of  the  sort  that  tear  passion  to  tatters  and  he 
had  never  risen  above  third-rate  parts.  In  every 
respect  save  declamation  he  had  all  the  elegances 
and  charm  of  manner  that  the  stage  can  give,  and 
he  would  receive  and  bow  out  a  scrubwoman 
who  had  fallen  down  a  flight  of  back  stairs  and 

60 


Artemas  Quibble 

wanted  to  make  the  landlord  pay  for  her  broken 
head  with  a  grace  truly  Chesterfield! an.  This 
was  all  very  fine  until  he  had  taken  a  drop  too 
much,  when  his  vocabulary  would  swell  to  such 
dimensions  that  the  confused  and  embarrassed  cli 
ent  would  flee  in  self-protection  unless  fortunate 
enough  to  be  rescued  by  Gottlieb  or  myself.  Poor 
Kelly!  He  was  a  fine  old  type.  And  many  a 
client  then  and  later  was  attracted  to  my  office  by 
his  refined  and  intellectual  old  face  with  its  locks 
of  silky  gray.  An  old  bachelor,  he  died  alone  one 
night  in  his  little  boarding-house  with  a  peaceful 
smile  on  his  wrinkled  face.  He  lies  in  Greenwood 
Cemetery.  Over  him  is  a  simple  stone — for  which 
I  paid — bearing,  as  he  had  requested,  only  the 
words: 


SIDDONS  KELLY 

AN   ACTOR 


As  may  well  be  supposed,  my  professional  career 
uptown  was  vastly  more  entertaining  than  my  ex 
periences  at  Haight  &  Foster's.  My  afternoons 
were  filled  with  a  constant  procession  of  clients  of 
all  ages,  sexes,  colors,  and  conditions.  As  the 
business  grew  and  greater  numbers  of  persons 
signed  our  contracts  and  received  their  honora 
rium  of  a  dollar  a  month,  a  constantly  increasing 

61 


The  Confessions  of 

percentage  of  criminal  or  semi-criminal  business 
came  to  the  office.  Of  course  there  was  no  better 
criminal  lawyer  than  Gottlieb  in  the  city,  and  be 
fore  long  the  criminals  outnumbered  our  civil  cli 
ents.  At  the  same  time  I  noticed  a  tendency  on 
the  part  of  the  civil  business  to  fall  off,  the  reason 
for  this  probably  being  that  my  partner  was  known 
only  as  a  criminal  attorney.  Now,  I  began  to  dis 
like  the  idea  of  paying  a  dollar  a  month  to  induce 
people  to  refer  business  to  us,  and  indeed  I  found 
that  the  disbursement  of  five  or  six  hundred  dol 
lars  every  four  weeks  for  this  purpose  was  no 
trifling  matter.  Accordingly  I  decided  to  try  let 
ting  them  go  for  a  month  or  so,  but  business  fell 
off  to  such  an  alarming  extent  that  I  almost  imme 
diately  resumed  the  contract  system,  merely  re 
ducing  its  proportions. 

In  addition  to  our  "dollar-a-monthers,"  as  we 
called  them,  Gottlieb  employed  half  a  dozen  pro 
fessional  "runners,"  whose  sole  occupation  it  was 
to  hunt  down  unfortunate  persons  injured  acci 
dentally  and  secure  their  cases.  These  employees 
made  a  business  of  joining  as  many  social  clubs, 
labor  and  other  organizations  as  possible  and 
swinging  the  business  in  Gottlieb's  direction.  At 
one  time  the  competition  for  accident  cases  became 
so  fierce  that  if  a  man  were  run  over  on  Broadway 

62 


Artemas  Quibble 

the  rival  runners  would  almost  tear  him  limb  from 
limb  in  their  eagerness  to  get  his  case;  and  they 
would  follow  a  dying  man  to  the  hospital  and  force 
their  way  on  one  pretext  or  another  to  his  bedside. 
There  used  to  be  a  story,  which  went  the  rounds  of 
the  clubs  and  barrooms,  of  a  very  swell  old  buck 
who  owed  an  enormous  amount  of  money  and  who 
happened  to  be  knocked  down  and  rendered  in 
sensible  by  a  butcher's  wagon.  He  was  taken  to 
the  hospital  and  did  not  regain  consciousness  for 
several  hours.  When  at  last  he  opened  his  eyes 
he  saw  several  dozen  cards  plastered  upon  the  ceil 
ing  directly  above  his  head,  reading: 


GO  TO 

LEVY  &  FINKLESTEIN 

ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW 

WE  GET  YOU  MONEY! 


TRY 
EINSTEIN  &  GOLDBERG 

IN  THE  BUSINESS  30  YEARS 


SOLOMONS   &  MEYER 
ATTORNEYS 


$5000 

FOR  A  LEG 


CAN  GET  YOU 


$  1 0,000 

FOR  A  LIVER 


MOSES  BLOOM 

THE    HONEST  LAWYER 


SAMUEL  SHARP 

COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW 


**Ah!"    he  murmured,   rubbing  his  eyes   and 
turning  to  the  nurse;    "I  thought  I  was  in  some 

63 


The  Confessions  of 

strange  place,  but  I  see  tkat  all  my  friends  have 
been  to  call  akeady!" 

Our  criminal  business,  however,  was  so  exten 
sive  that  it  took  practically  all  of  Gottlieb's  time, 
and  he  found  k  necessary  to  hire  a  couple  of  clerks 
to  attend  to  the  civil  cases  that  came  to  us.  My 
partner  was  ohKgecl  to  spend  the  whole  of  almost 
every  day  in  attendance  at  the  criminal  courts. 
Frequently  he  remarked  jestingly  that  under  the 
circumstances,  as  he  had  to  give  all  his  time  to  it 
anyway,  he  could  as  easily  attend  to  all  the  crim 
inal  business  of  the  city  as  to  the  small  part  of  it 
that  came  to  him. 

"Well/*  I  said  to  him  one  day,  "why  don't 
you?" 

"Why  don't  I  what?"   he  retorted. 

"Get  all  the  criminal  business  there  is,"  I  an 
swered. 

"Quib,"  he  exclaimed  excitedly,  "have  you  got 
another  of  your  ideas  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  I  returned.  "How  does  this 
strike  you  ?  Why  not  issue  a  policy,  like  life  or 
accident  insurance,  in  which  for  a  moderate  sum 
you  agree  to  defend  free  of  charge  any  man  accused 
of  crime  ?  You  know  that  every  criminal  is  always 
trying  to  save  up  money  against  the  time  when  he 
shall  be  caught  and  have  to  hire  a  lawyer.  Now, 


Artemas  Quibble 

it  is  true  that  these  fellows  pay  very  well,  but  there 
are  not  many  that  can  pay  a  large  fee.  If  you 
could  get  enough  crooks  to  take  out  a  policy  at 
ten  dollars  each  per  year  you  might  make  a  good 
thing  of  it." 

"  But  how  would  we  get  our  scheme  going  ?"  in 
quired  my  partner,  with  a  gleam  in  his  eye.  "It 
certainly  is  a  gold  mine,  if  it  will  work." 

"Leave  the  thing  to  me,"  I  admonished  him. 

That  evening  I  drew  up  with  great  care  a  policy 
of  insurance  against  the  loss  occasioned  by  having 
to  employ  counsel  if  arrested  for  crime.  On  its 
back  was  indorsed  the  following  insidious  phi 
losophy: 

Innocent  men,  as  well  as  guilty,  are  frequently  ar 
rested  for  violating  the  law.  This  costs  money.  Law 
yers  are  notorious  extortioners.  For  ten  dollars  a  year 
we  guarantee  to  defend  you  for  nothing  if  charged  with 
crime.  Twenty-five  dollars  insures  entire  family.  We 
make  no  distinction  between  ex-convicts  and  others. 

ABRAHAM  GOTTLIEB, 
Of  Counsel. 

My  next  task  was  to  boom  my  scheme  by  suc 
cessful  advertising,  and  with  this  in  view  I  per 
suaded  Gottlieb  to  issue  free  policies  to  a  dozen  or 
so  of  the  worst  rascals  that  he  knew.  Naturally  it 
was  not  long  before  one  of  them  was  arrested  for 

65 


The  Confessions  of 

some  offence,  and  Gottlieb  as  naturally  succeeded 
in  getting  him  off,  with  the  as  natural  result  that 
the  fellow  went  all  over  town  telling  how  one  could 
be  a  burglar  with  impunity  for  ten  dollars  a  year. 
At  about  the  same  time  I  heard  of  a  man  who  was 
in  the  Tombs  charged  with  murder,  but  who 
was  almost  certain  to  get  off  on  account  of  the 
weakness  of  the  case  against  him.  I,  therefore, 
visited  the  defendant  and  offered  to  give  him  a 
policy  for  ten  dollars,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  already  in  jail.  He  snatched  readily  enough  at 
the  chance  of  getting  as  good  a  lawyer  as  Gott 
lieb  to  defend  him  for  ten  dollars,  and  when  he 
was  acquitted  made  so  much  of  it  that  there  was 
hardly  a  prisoner  in  the  Tombs  who  did  not  send 
for  one  of  our  policies  to  guard  against  future  legal 
difficulties.  To  all  of  these  we  offered  free  advice 
and  a  free  trial  upon  the  charges  pending  against 
them,  as  a  sort  of  premium  or  inducement  to  be 
come  policy-holders,  and  in  six  months  had  over 
two  hundred  subscribers.  This  meant  in  cash 
about  two  thousand  dollars,  but  it  necessitated 
defending  any  or  all  of  them  whenever  they  were 
so  unfortunate  as  to  run  foul  of  the  police,  and  as 
luck  would  have  it  out  of  the  two  hundred  policy- 
holders  forty-seven  of  them  were  arrested  within 
the  first  six  months — fifteen  for  burglary,  eleven 

66 


Artemas  Quibble 

for  robbery  and  assault,  sixteen  for  theft,  and  five 
for  murder.  These  latter  cases  took  all  of  Gott 
lieb's  working  hours  for  some  seven  and  a  half 
weeks,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  threw  up  his 
hands  and  vowed  never  to  insure  anybody  against 
anything  again.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  try  any 
of  the  cases  myself,  as  I  was  not  as  yet  admitted  to 
the  bar,  and  the  end  of  the  matter  was  that  we  re 
turned  the  premiums  and  cancelled  the  policies  of 
the  remaining  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  insured. 
This  done,  Gottlieb  and  I  heaved  sighs  of  mutual 
relief. 

"You  are  a  clever  fellow,  Quib,"  he  acknowl 
edged  good-naturedly,  "  but  in  some  ways  you  are 
ahead  of  your  time.  You  ought  to  have  gone  into 
life  insurance  or  railroading.  Your  genius  is  wasted 
on  anything  that  ain't  done  wholesale.  Let's  you 
and  me  just  stick  to  such  clients  as  come  our  way 
in  the  natural  course  of  events.  There  isn't  any 
one  born  yet  big  enough  to  do  all  the  criminal  law 
business  in  this  little  old  town  all  by  himself." 

And  in  this  I  with  some  regret  agreed  with  him. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AS  I  have  already  taken  some  pains  to  indicate, 
I  was  fully  persuaded  of  the  practical  value 
of  a  professional  connection  with  a  legal  firm  of  so 
eminent  a  standing  as  that  of  Messrs.  Haight  & 
Foster,  and  for  this  reason  the  reader  may  easily 
appreciate  the  shock  with  which  I  received  the  in 
formation  that  my  presence  was  no  longer  desired 
in  the  office. 

Mr.  Haight  had  unexpectedly  sent  me  word  that 
I  was  wanted  in  the  library  and  I  had  obeyed  his 
summons  without  a  suspicion  that  my  career  as  a 
civil  attorney  was  to  be  abruptly  terminated.  As 
I  closed  the  door  behind  me  I  saw  the  old  lawyer 
standing  near  the  window,  his  spectacles  poked 
above  his  eyebrows  and  his  forehead  red  with 
indignation.  Between  the  thumb  and  forefinger 
of  his  left  hand  he  held  a  card. 

"So,"  he  exclaimed,  vainly  trying  to  appear  col 
lected,  "I  find  that  my  firm  has  been  conducting 
an  uptown  office  for  criminal  business!  This  is 
one  of  your  cards,  I  believe?" 

68 


Artemas  Quibble 

He  tossed  it  from  him  as  if  it  were  infected  with 
some  virulent  legal  disease,  and  I  saw  that  it  was 
one  of  the  unfortunate  cards  that  I  had  had  printed 
before  forming  my  partnership  with  Gottlieb.  It 
was  no  use  denying  anything. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  as  quietly  as  I  could,  "it  is 
one  of  my  caids." 

"I  am  also  informed,"  he  continued,  his  voice 
trerabiing  with  suppressed  wrath,  "that  while  you 
have  been  masquerading  as  a  student  in  this  office 
you  have  been  doing  a  police-court  law  business 
in  association  with  a  person  named  Gottlieb." 

I  turned  white,  yet  made  no  traverse  of  his  indict 
ment.  I  was  going  to  be  kicked  out,  but  I  felt 
that  I  could  at  least  make  my  exit  with  a  dignified 
composure. 

"Young  man,  you  are  no  longer  wanted  here," 
continued  Mr.  Haigfat  with  arerbity.  "You  have 
found  your  own  level  without  assistance  and  you 
will  no  doubt  remain  there.  You  obtained  your 
position  in  this  office  by  means  of  false  pretences. 
I  do  not  know  who  you  really  are  or  whence  you 
really  come,  but  I  have  no  doubt  as  to  where  you 
will  eventually  go.  This  office  does  not  lead  in 
the  right  direction.  You  ought  to  be  locked  up! 
Get  out!" 

I  went. 


The  Confessions  of 

Glib  as  I  was  in  the  defence  of  others  I  found  it 
difficult  to  argue  in  my  own  behalf.  At  any  rate, 
it  would  have  availed  nothing.  I  had  been  tried, 
convicted,  and  sentenced  in  my  absence,  and  it 
was  vain  to  hope  for  pardon.  There  is  something 
in  righteous  indignation  that  inevitably  carries 
respect  with  it.  I  fully  sympathized  with  Mr. 
Haight.  I  had  cheated  and  outraged  his  firm  and 
I  knew  it.  I  had  no  excuse  to  offer  and  he  was 
entitled  to  his  burst  of  excoriation.  Morally  I  felt 
sure  that  the  worm  that  had  worked  deepest  into 
his  bone  was  the  fact  that  my  guardian,  whose 
name,  as  the  reader  may  recall,  I  had  made  use 
of  as  an  introduction,  had  not  in  fact  written 
" Tottenham  on  Perpetuities*'  at  all. 

Thus  I  passed  out  of  the  office  of  Haight  & 
Foster  much  as  I  had  slipped  in — quite  unostenta 
tiously.  All  hope  of  success  along  the  slow  and 
difficult  lines  of  legitimate  practice  faded  from  my 
mind.  Whether  I  willed  it  or  not,  as  a  criminal 
attorney  I  was  destined  to  make  my  bread. 

There  was  now  no  reason  why  Gottlieb  and  I 
should  any  longer  conceal  our  partnership,  and  we 
decided,  therefore,  to  go  into  things  on  a  much 
larger  scale  than  theretofore,  and  hired  a  suite  of 
offices  on  Centre  Street,  near  the  Tombs,  where  we 
be  within  easy  reach  of  the  majority  of  our 
70 


Artemas  Quibble 

clients.  A  sign  some  forty  feet  long  and  three  feet 
wide  ran  along  the  entire  front  of  the  building, 
bearing  the  names  Gottlieb  &  Quibble.  Our  own 
offices  were  in  the  rear,  the  front  rooms  being 
given  over  to  clerks,  runners,  and  process  servers. 
A  huge  safe  bought  for  a  few  dollars  at  an  auc 
tion  stood  in  the  entrance  chamber,  but  we  used 
it  only  as  a  receptacle  for  coal,  its  real  purpose 
being  simply  to  impress  our  clients.  We  kept  but 
few  papers  and  needed  practically  no  books;  what 
we  had  were  thrown  around  indiscriminately,  upon 
chairs,  tables — even  on  the  floor.  I  do  not  recall 
any  particular  attempt  to  keep  the  place  clean,  and 
I  am  sure  that  the  windows  were  never  washed. 
But  we  made  money,  and  that  was  what  we  were 
out  for — and  we  made  it  every  day — every  hour; 
and  as  we  made  it  we  divided  it  up  and  put  it  in 
our  pockets.  Our  success  from  the  start  seemed 
in  some  miraculous  way  to  be  assured,  for  my 
partner  had,  even  before  I  knew  him,  established 
a  reputation  as  one  of  the  keenest  men  at  the 
criminal  bar. 

As  time  went  on  our  offices  were  thronged  with 
clients  of  all  sexes,  ages,  conditions,  and  nation 
alities.  The  pickpocket  on  his  way  out  elbowed 
the  gentlewoman  who  had  an  erring  son  and  sought 
our  aid  to  restore  him  to  grace.  The  politician 

71 


The  Confessions  of 

and  the  actress,  the  polite  burglar  and  the  Wall 
Street  schemer,  the  aggrieved  wife  and  stout  old 
clubman  who  was  "being  annoyed,"  each  awaited 
his  or  her  turn  to  receive  our  opinion  as  to  their 
respective  needs.  Good  or  bad  they  got  it.  Usu 
ally  it  had  little  to  do  with  law.  Rather  it  was 
sound,  practical  advice  as  to  the  best  thing  to 
be  done  under  the  circumstances.  These  circum 
stances,  as  may  be  imagined,  varied  widely.  What 
ever  they  were  and  however  little  they  justified 
apprehension  on  the  part  of  the  client  we  always 
made  it  a  point  at  the  very  outset  to  scare  the  latter 
thoroughly.  "Conscience  doth  make  cowards  of 
us  all."  But  a  lawyer  is  a  close  second  to  con 
science  when  it  comes  to  coward-making;  in  fact, 
frightening  people,  innocent  or  guilty,  became  to  a 
very  large  extent  our  regular  business. 

The  sinners  most  of  them  live  in  daily  terror  of 
being  found  out  and  the  virtuous  are  equally  fear 
ful  of  being  unjustly  accused.  Every  one  knows 
how  a  breath  of  scandal  originating  out  of  nothing 
can  wither  a  family  and  drive  strong  men  to  des 
peration.  The  press  is  always  ready  to  print 
interesting  stories  about  people,  without  inquir 
ing  too  closely  into  their  authenticity.  Curiously 
enough  we  found  that  an  invitation  to  call  at  our 
office  usually  availed  to  bring  the  most  exemplary 

72 


Artemas  Quibble 

citizens  without  delay.  I  can  remember  not  more 
than  three  who  had  the  courage  to  refuse.  Most 
came,  as  it  were,  on  the  run.  Others  made  a  bluff 
at  righteous  indignation.  All,  in  the  end,  paid 
up — and  paid  well.  Our  reputation  grew,  and 
in  the  course  of  a  few  years  the  terror  of  us 
stalked  abroad  through  the  city. 

Our  staff  was  well  organized,  however  disor 
dered  may  have  been  the  physical  appearance  of 
our  office.  In  the  first  place  we  had  an  agent  in 
every  police  court  who  instantly  informed  us 
whenever  any  person  was  arrested  who  had  suffi 
cient  means  to  make  it  worth  our  while  to  come 
to  his  assistance.  This  agent  was  usually  the  clerk 
or  some  other  official  who  could  delay  the  pro 
ceedings  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  us  time  to  appear 
upon  the  scene.  We  also  had  many  of  the  police 
in  our  pay  and  made  it  a  practice  to  reward  liber 
ally  any  officer  who  succeeded  in  throwing  us  any 
business.  In  this  way  defendants  sometimes  ac 
quired  the  erroneous  idea  that  if  they  followed  the 
suggestion  of  the  officer  arresting  them  and  em 
ployed  us  as  their  attorneys,  they  would  be  let  off 
through  some  collusion  between  the  officer  and 
ourselves.  Of  course  this  idea  was  without  foun 
dation,  but  it  was  the  source  of  considerable  finan 
cial  profit  to  us,  and  we  did  little  to  counteract  the 

73 


The  Confessions  of 

general  impression  that  had  gone  abroad  that 
we  "stood  in"  with  the  minions  of  the  law  and 
were  persona  grata  to  the  judges  of  the  police 
courts. 

After  the  telephone  came  into  general  use  Gott 
lieb  employed  it  in  many  ingenious  ways.  He 
even  had  an  unconnected  set  of  apparatus  hanging 
on  the  wall  of  the  office,  through  which  he  used 
to  hold  imaginary  conversations  with  judges  and 
city  officers  for  the  benefit  of  clients  who  were  in 
search  of  "  inflooence."  It  is  a  common  weakness 
of  the  layman  to  believe  that  more  can  be  accom 
plished  through  pull  than  through  the  merit  of 
one's  cause.  Even  litigants  who  have  the  right  on 
their  side  are  quite  as  apt  to  desire  an  attorney 
who  is  supposed  to  be  "next"  to  the  judge  as  are 
those  whose  only  hope  is  through  judicial  favor. 
Gottlieb's  relations  to  the  lower  magistrates  were 
in  many  instances  close,  but  he  professed  to  be  on 
the  most  intimate  terms  with  all  who  wore  the 
ermine,  whether  in  the  police  courts  or  on  the 
supreme  bench.  Time  after  time  I  have  overheard 
some  such  colloquy  as  the  following.  A  client  would 
enter  the  office  and  after  recounting  his  difficulties 
or  wrongs  would  cautiously  ask  Gottlieb  if  he 
knew  the  judge  before  whom  the  matter  would 
come. 

74 


Artemas  Quibble 

"Do  I  know  him  ?"  my  partner  would  cry.  "I 
lunch  with  him  almost  every  day!  Wait  a  minute 
and  I'll  call  him  up." 

Vigorously  ringing  the  bell  attached  to  the  un 
connected  instrument  upon  the  wall  Gottlieb  would 
indulge  his  fancy  in  some  such  dialogue  as: 

"Hello— hello!  Is  this  Judge  Nemo?  Oh, 
hello,  Jack,  is  it  you  ?  Yes,  it's  me — Abe.  Say, 
I  want  to  talk  over  a  little  matter  with  you  before 
I  go  into  court.  How  about  lunch  ?  Sure — any 
time  will  suit  me.  One  o'clock  ?  I'll  be  there. 
Thanks.  So  long,  old  man.  See  you  later!" 

The  client  by  virtue  of  this  auricular  demonstra 
tion  of  our  friendly  relations  with  the  bench  would 
be  instantly  convinced  that  his  success  was  as 
sured  and  that  Gottlieb  &  Quibble  were  cheap  at 
any  retainer  they  might  choose  to  name. 

For  the  most  part  the  routine  office  work  fell  to 
me  and  Gottlieb  attended  to  the  court  end  of  the 
business.  For  there  was  no  more  adroit  or  experi 
enced  trial  attorney  in  the  courts  than  my  little 
hook-nosed  partner.  Even  down-town  attorneys 
with  almost  national  reputations  as  corporation 
lawyers  would  call  him  in  as  associate  counsel  in 
important  cases  in  which  a  criminal  element  was 
involved.  Thus  we  frequently  secured  big  fees  in 
what  Gottlieb  was  pleased  to  call  legitimate  prac- 

7.5 


The  Confessions  of 

tice,  although  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  our 
share  was  small  compared  with  that  of  the  civil 
lawyers  who  had  retained  us.  On  one  occasion 
where  Gottlieb  had  been  thus  called  in,  the  regular 
attorney  of  record,  who  happened  to  be  a  promi 
nent  churchman,  came  to  our  office  to  discuss  the 
fee  that  should  be  charged.  The  client  was  a  rich 
man  who  had  sued  successfully  for  a  divorce. 

"How  much,  Mr.  Gottlieb,"  inquired  the  attor 
ney,  stroking  his  chin,  "do  you  think  would  be  a 
fair  amount  to  ask  for  our  services  ?" 

My  partner  hesitated  a  moment  and  mentally 
reviewed  the  length  of  time  the  case — a  very  sim 
ple  one — had  occupied. 

"Do  you  think  five  thousand  dollars  would  be 
too  much  ?"  he  finally  asked  with  some  hesitation. 

"Five!"  cried  the  lawyer  in  astonishment.  "It 
should  be  twenty  thousand — at  the  least!" 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  give  a  history  of  the  firm 
of  Gottlieb  &  Quibble,  but  rather  a  general  de 
scription  of  the  work  of  any  criminal  law  office.  Its 
object  is  precisely  the  same  as  that  of  the  best 
offices  where  civil  law  is  practised — that  is,  to  make 
money  out  of  the  client.  But  inasmuch  as  the 
client  who  seeks  the  aid  of  a  criminal  attorney  is 
usually  in  dread  of  losing  not  merely  money  but 
liberty,  reputation,  and  perhaps  life  as  well,  he  is 

76 


Artemas  Quibble 

correspondingly  ready  to  pay  generously  for  any 
real  or  fancied  service  on  the  part  of  the  lawyer. 
Thus  the  fees  of  a  criminal  practitioner — when  the 
client  has  any  money — are  ridiculously  high,  and 
he  usually  gets  sooner  or  later  all  that  the  client 
has.  Indeed,  there  are  three  golden  rules  in  the 
profession,  of  which  the  first  has  already  been 
hinted  at — namely,  thoroughly  terrify  your  client. 
Second,  find  out  how  much  money  he  has  and 
where  it  is.  Third,  get  it.  The  merest  duffer  can 
usually  succeed  in  following  out  the  first  two  of 
these  precepts,  but  to  accomplish  the  third  requires 
often  a  master's  art.  The  ability  actually  to  get 
one's  hands  on  the  coin  is  what  differentiates  the 
really  great  criminal  lawyer  from  his  inconspicu 
ous  brethren. 

The  criminal  attorney,  therefore,  whether  he  be 
called  to  see  his  client  at  the  Tombs  or  in  the  police 
station,  or  is  consulted  in  his  own  office,  at  once 
informs  the  latter  that  he  is  indeed  in  a  parlous 
state.  He  demonstrates  to  him  conclusively  that 
there  exist  but  a  few  steps  between  him  and  the 
gallows,  or  at  the  least  State's  prison,  and  that  his 
only  hope  lies  in  his  procuring  at  once  sufficient 
money  to — first,  get  out  on  bail;  second,  buy  off 
the  witnesses;  third,  "fix"  the  police;  fourth, 
"square"  the  judge;  and  lastly,  pay  the  lawyer. 

77 


The  Confessions  of 

Even  where  the  prisoner  has  no  money  himself,  his 
family  are  usually  ready  to  do  what  they  can  to  get 
him  off,  in  order  to  save  themselves  from  the  dis 
grace  of  being  related  to  a  convict.  It  is  not  what 
may  actually  happen  to  your  client,  but  what  he 
thinks  may  happen,  that  makes  him  ready  and 
anxious  to  give  up  his  money.  Thus,  the  more 
artistic  the  practitioner  in  painting  the  dire  conse 
quences  which  will  result  if  the  family  of  the  of 
fender  does  not  come  to  his  rescue  the  quicker  and 
larger  will  be  the  response.  Time  also  is  neces 
sary  to  enable  the  ancestral  stocking  to  be  grudg 
ingly  withdrawn  from  its  hiding-place  and  its 
contents  disgorged,  or  to  allow  the  pathetic  repre 
sentations  of  his  nearer  relatives  to  work  upon  the 
callous  heart  of  old  Uncle  John,  who  once  held  a 
city  office  and  has  thus  plenty  of  money.  The 
object  of  the  lawyer  being  to  hang  on  to  the  client 
until  he  has  got  his  money,  it  follows  that  if  the 
latter  is  locked  up  in  jail  it  is  all  the  better  for  the 
lawyer,  unless  it  be  expedient  to  let  him  out  to 
raise  funds.  Thus  criminal  attorneys  are  not,  as  a 
rule,  particularly  anxious  to  secure  the  release  of  a 
client  from  jail.  Solitary  confinement  increases 
his  apprehension  and  discomfort  and  renders  him 
more  complacent  about  paying  well  for  liberty. 
The  English  king  who  locked  up  the  money- 

78 


Artemas  Quibble 

lender  and  had  one  of  his  teeth  drawn  out  each 
day  until  he  made  the  desired  loan  knew  his  busi 
ness.  Once  the  fellow  is  out  of  jail — pfft!  He  is 
gone,  and  neither  the  place  nor  you  know  him 
more.  Very  likely  also  he  will  jump  his  bail  and 
you  will  have  to  make  good  your  bond.  One  client 
in  jail  is  worth  two  at  large. 

Lawyers  exercise  much  invention  in  keeping 
their  clients  under  control.  I  recall  one  recent  case 
where  a  French  chauffeur  who  had  but  just  ar 
rived  in  this  country  was  arrested  for  speeding. 
The  most  that  could  happen  to  him  would,  in  the 
natural  course  of  events,  be  a  fine  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  dollars.  But  an  imaginative  criminal  prac 
titioner  got  hold  of  him  in  the  police  court  and 
drew  such  a  highly  colored  picture  of  what  might 
happen  to  him  that  the  Frenchman  stayed  in  jail 
without  bail  under  an  assumed  name,  raised  some 
three  hundred  dollars  by  means  of  a  draft  on  Paris, 
handed  it  over  to  his  counsel,  and  finally  after  a 
delay  of  two  weeks  was  tried  in  the  Special  Ses 
sions,  found  guilty,  and  let  go  on  a  suspended 
sentence.  He  is  now  looking  for  the  lawyer  with 
a  view  to  doing  something  to  him  that  will  inevi 
tably  result  in  his  own  permanent  incarceration. 

Another  practical  distinction  between  civil  and 
criminal  practitioners  is  that  while  the  first  are 

79 


The  Confessions  of 

concerned  for  the  most  part  with  the  law,  the  sec 
ond  are  chiefly  occupied  with  the  facts.  In  civil 
cases  the  lawyers  spend  most  of  their  time  in  trying 
to  demonstrate  that,  even  assuming  their  oppo 
nents'  contentions  as  to  the  facts  to  be  true,  the 
law  is  nevertheless  in  their  own  favor.  Now,  this 
is  a  comparatively  easy  thing,  since  no  one  knows 
what  the  law  in  most  civil  cases  is — and  in  truth  it 
might  as  well  be  one  way  as  the  other.  A  noted 
member  of  the  supreme  bench  of  the  United 
States  is  reported  to  have  said  that  when  he  was 
chief  justice  of  one  of  the  State  courts,  and  he  and 
his  confreres  found  themselves  in  a  quandary  over 
the  law,  they  were  accustomed  to  send  the  sergeant- 
at-arms  for  what  they  called  "the  implements  of 
decision" — a  brace  of  dice  and  a  copper  cent. 
Thus  the  weightest  matters  were  decided  without 
difficulty. 

Now,  the  taking  of  a  purse  out  of  a  lady's  reticule 
does  not  present  much  confusion  as  a  legal  propo 
sition.  It  would  be  somewhat  difficult  to  persuade 
a  judge  or  a  jury  that  picking  a  pocket  is  not  a 
crime.  It  is  far  easier  to  demonstrate  that  the 
pocket  was  not  picked  at  all.  This  is  generally 
only  a  question  of  money.  Witnesses  can  easily 
be  secured  to  swear  either  that  the  lady  had  no 
reticule,  or  that  if  she  had  a  reticule  it  contained 

80 


Artemas  Quibble 

no  purse,  or  that  some  person  other  than  the  de» 
fendant  took  the  purse,  or  that  she  herself  dropped 
it,  or  that  even  if  the  prisoner  took  it  he  had  no 
criminal  intent  in  so  doing,  since  he  observed  that 
it  was  about  to  slip  from  the  receptacle  in  which 
it  was  contained  and  intended  but  to  return  it  to 
her.  Lastly,  if  put  to  it,  that  in  fact  the  owner 
was  no  lady,  and  therefore  unworthy  of  credence. 
Few  persons  realize  how  difficult  it  is  for  an  out* 
sider,  such  as  an  ordinary  juryman,  to  decide  an 
issue  of  fact.  A  flat  denial  is  worth  a  hundred 
ingenious  defences  in  which  the  act  is  admitted 
but  the  attempt  is  made  to  explain  it  away.  It  is 
this  that  gives  the  jury  so  much  trouble  in  crimi 
nal  cases.  For  example,  in  the  case  of  the  pick* 
pocket  the  lawyers  and  the  judge  may  know  that 
the  complaining  witness  is  a  worthy  woman,  the 
respectable  mother  of  a  family,  and  that  the  de 
fendant  is  a  rascal.  But  each  comes  before  the 
jury  presumably  of  equal  innocence.  She  says  he 
did,  he  says  he  didn't.  The  case  must  be  proven 
beyond  a  reasonable  doubt.  Generally  the  de 
fendant's  word,  so  far  as  the  jury  can  see,  is  as 
good  as  his  accuser's.  If  there  are  other  witnesses 
it  is  usually  not  difficult,  and  certainly  not  impos 
sible,  to  show  that  they  have  poor  eyesight,  bad 
memories,  or  are  undesirable  citizens  in  general, 

81 


The  Confessions  of 

The  criminal  lawyer  learns  in  his  cradle  never  to 
admit  anything.  By  getting  constant  adjourn 
ments  he  wears  out  the  People's  witnesses,  induces 
others  to  stay  away,  and  when  the  case  finally 
comes  to  trial  has  only  the  naked  accusation  of  the 
complainant  to  disprove.  Or,  to  put  it  in  more 
technically  correct  fashion,  the  complainant  has 
only  his  own  word  wherewith  to  establish  his  case 
beyond  a  reasonable  doubt.  A  bold  contradiction 
is  often  so  startling  that  it  throws  confusion  into  the 
enemy's  camp. 

I  once  defended  a  worthy  gentleman  named 
Cohen  on  a  charge  of  perjury,  alleged  to  have  been 
committed  by  him  in  a  civil  case  in  which  he,  as 
defendant,  denied  that  he  had  ever  ordered  a  set 
of  stable  plans  from  a  certain  architect.  The  lat 
ter  was  a  young  man  of  very  small  practice  who  had 
an  office  but  no  clerks  or  draughtsmen.  He  cer 
tainly  believed  with  the  utmost  honesty  that  my 
client  had  come  to  his  office,  engaged  him  to  de 
sign  a  stable,  and  approved  an  elaborate  set  of 
plans  that  he  had  drawn.  When  it  came  to  pay 
ing  for  them  Mr.  Cohen  declined.  The  architect 
brought  suit,  and  at  the  trial  swore  to  the  dates 
and  places  of  the  interviews  between  Cohen  and 
himself,  and  to  all  the  surrounding  circumstances 
and  details  connected  with  the  execution  of  the 

82 


Artemas  Quibble 

plans  in  question.  His  lawyer  expected  that  the  de 
fendant  would  interpose  the  defence  that  the  plans 
were  inferior,  defective,  or  worthless.  Not  at  all! 
Mr.  Cohen  swore  that  he  had  never  ordered  the 
plans  and,  in  fact,  had  never  seen  the  architect  in  his 
life  !  He  alleged  that  until  the  suit  was  brought 
he  had  never  even  heard  of  him,  and  that  either 
the  architect  was  demented  or  a  liar,  or  else  some 
other  Cohen  had  given  the  order.  The  architect 
and  his  lawyer  were  thunderstruck,  but  they  had 
no  witnesses  to  corroborate  their  contentions,  since 
no  one  had  ever  seen  Cohen  in  the  other's  office. 
The  jury  disagreed  and  the  architect  in  some  way 
secured  Cohen's  indictment  for  perjury.  But  dur 
ing  the  criminal  trial,  at  which  I  defended  him,  Mr. 
Cohen  calmly  persisted  in  his  denial  that  he  had 
ever  enjoyed  the  honor  of  the  architect's  acquaint 
ance,  and  after  two  prosecutions,  in  each  of  which 
the  jury  hopelessly  disagreed,  the  indictments 
against  him  were  dismissed.  From  this  it  may 
easily  be  inferred  that  no  fact  is  too  patent  to  be 
denied.  Frequently  the  more  heroic  the  denial  the 
greater  its  verisimilitude  to  truth.  The  jury  feel 
that  no  prisoner  would  deny  a  fact  that  it  would 
be  much  easier  to  explain  away — and  believe  him. 
I  once  represented  an  Italian  called  The  King  of 
Mulberry  Street,  who  was  charged  with  having  de- 

83 


The  Confessions  of 

liberately  shot  in  the  head  and  killed  a  respectable 
dealer  in  olive-oil  against  whom  he  held  no  grudge 
whatsoever.  This  King  was  just  an  egotistic  little 
man  who  liked  notoriety  and  admiration.  He  was 
wont  to  refer  to  himself  simply  as  "The  Bravest 
Man/'  without  reference  to  time  or  place — just 
"The  Bravest  Man."  He  was  accustomed  to 
demonstrate  his  bravery  by  shooting  inoffensive 
people  whenever  the  idea  seized  him.  He  never 
killed  anybody  save  quiet  and  law-abiding  fellow 
citizens  who  made  no  resistance,  and  the  method 
he  selected  was  to  shoot  them  through  the  head. 
He  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  essential  to  his  dignity 
thus  to  execute  at  least  one  human  being  every  six 
months,  and  the  extraordinary  feature  of  his  his 
tory  was  that  he  had  never  been  convicted. 

The  case  that  I  was  called  upon  to  defend  was 
this:  Not  having  killed  anybody  for  nearly  a  year 
and  fearing  to  jeopardize  his  dual  title  of  King  of 
Mulberry  Street  and  The  Bravest  Man,  he  put  a 
forty-four  calibre  pistol  in  his  pocket,  donned  his 
Sunday  clothes  and  took  a  walk.  The  thorough 
fare  was  crowded,  the  day  bright  and  fair,  the 
time  twelve  o'clock  noon.  Presently  the  oil  mer 
chant  approached  and  The  King,  first  glancing 
about  him  to  make  sure  that  he  had  a  "gallery," 
went  up  to  him,  placed  the  pistol  at  his  head  and 


Artemas  Quibble 

fired.     He  was  immediately  arrested  and  indicted 
for  murder. 

Now,  twenty  witnesses  had  seen  him  fire  die  fatal 
shot.  Yet  there  was  not  the  slightest  reason  in  the 
world  why  he  should  have  done  such  a  thing. 
Upon  the  trial  my  client  insisted  on  simply  denying 
that  he  had  done  anything  of  the  kind.  I  had 
naturally  assumed  that  he  would  either  claim  that 
the  shooting  had  been  accidental  or  that  he  had 
fired  in  self-defence,  after  he  had  first  been  at 
tacked  by  the  deceased.  But  no — he  had  had  no 
pistol,  did  not  know  the  man,  and  had  not  killed 
him.  Why  should  he  have  killed  him  ?  he  in 
quired.  No  one  could  answer  the  question,  least 
of  all  the  jury.  The  twenty  witnesses  were  posi 
tive  that  he  had  done  so,  but  he  was  equally 
positive  that  he  had  not.  No  one  could  offer  the 
slightest  explanation  of  the  deed — if  it  had  in  fact 
taken  place.  The  jury  puzzled  over  the  case  for 
hours,  at  one  time,  I  am  informed,  being  on  the 
point  of  acquitting  the  prisoner  for  lack  of  proof 
of  any  motive.  They  reasoned,  with  perfect  logic, 
that  it  was  almost  if  not  quite  as  improbable  that 
the  defendant  should  in  broad  daylight  on  a  public 
street  have  shot  down  a  man  against  whom  he  had 
not  the  slightest  grudge  as  that  twenty  common 
place  citizens  should  be  mistaken  as  to  what  they 

85 


The  Confessions  of 

had  seen.  Whether  they  were  aided  in  reaching  a 
verdict  by  "the  implements  of  decision"  I  do  not 
know,  but  in  the  end  they  found  my  client  guilty 
and  in  due  course  he  paid  the  penalty,  as  many 
another  king  has  done,  upon  the  scaffold.  The 
plain  fact  was  that  The  King  was  a  "bravo,"  who 
took  a  childish  and  vain  pride  in  killing  people. 
He  killed  for  the  love  of  killing,  or  rather  for  the 
egotistic  satisfaction  of  being  talked  of  as  a  killer. 
At  any  rate,  there  are  many  like  him.  While  his 
defence  was  unsuccessful,  he  came  near  enough  to 
escaping  to  point  out  the  value  of  a  bold  denial  in  a 
criminal  case. 

Our  clients  consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of  three 
clearly  defined  classes  of  persons:  Criminals,  their 
victims,  and  persons  involved  in  marital  or  quasi- 
marital  difficulties.  These  last  furnished  by  far 
the  most  interesting  quota  of  our  business,  and,  did 
not  professional  confidence  seal  my  lips,  I  could  re 
count  numerous  entertaining  anecdotes  concerning 
some  of  what  are  usually  regarded  as  New  York's 
most  respectable,  not  to  say  straight-laced,  house 
holds.  A  family  skeleton  is  the  criminal  lawyer's 
strongest  ally.  Once  you  can  locate  him  and  drag 
him  forth  you  have  but  to  rattle  his  bones  ever  so 
little  and  the  paternal  bank  account  is  at  your 
mercy.  New  York  is  prolific  of  skeletons  of  this 

86 


Artemas  Quibble 

generic  character,  and  Gottlieb  had  a  magnificent 
collection.  When  naught  else  was  doing  we  used 
to  stir  them  up  and  revive  business.  Over  this  feat 
ure  of  the  firm's  activities  I  feel  obliged,  however, 
from  a  natural  feeling  of  delicacy,  to  draw  a  veil. 
Our  function  usually  consisted  in  offering  to  see 
to  it  that  a  certain  proposed  action,  based  on  cer 
tain  injudicious  letters,  should  be  discontinued 
upon  the  payment  of  a  certain  specified  sum  of 
money.  These  sums  ranged  in  amount  from  five 
to  twenty  thousand  dollars,  of  which  we  retained 
only  one-half.  I  understand  that  some  lawyers 
take  more  than  this  percentage,  but  for  such  I 
have  only  contempt.  A  member  of  a  learned  and 
honorable  profession  should  be  scrupulous  in  his 
conduct,  and  to  keep  for  one's  self  more  than  half 
the  money  recovered  for  a  client  seems  to  me  to  be 
bordering  on  the  unethical.  But  perhaps  I  am 
hypersqueamish. 

Of  course  we  had  a  great  deal  of  the  ordinary 
"knock-down-and-drag-out"  variety  of  assault, 
robbery,  theft,  and  homicide  cases.  Most  of  these 
our  clerks  attended  to,  but  the  murder  cases  Gott 
lieb  defended  in  person,  and  in  this  he  was  so  sin 
gularly  successful  that  there  was  hardly  a  cele 
brated  trial  in  which  he  was  not  retained  in  some 
capacity  or  other.  For  he  was  an  adept  in  all  those 

8? 


The  Confessions  of 

little  arts  that  make  a  jury  feel  well  disposed  tow 
ard  a  lawyer,  and  as  a  word  artist  he  was  unsur 
passed.  Gottlieb  could,  I  believe,  have  wrung  tears 
from  a  lump  of  pig  iron,  and  his  own  capacity  to 
open  the  floodgates  of  emotion  was  phenomenal. 
He  had  that  rare  and  priceless  gift  shared  by  some 
members  of  the  theatrical  profession  of  being  able 
to  shed  real  tears  at  will.  His  sobs  and  groans  were 
truly  heart-rending.  This,  as  might  be  expected, 
rendered  him  peculiarly  telling  in  his  appeals  to  the 
jury,  and  he  could  frequently  set  the  entire  panel 
snivelling  and  wiping  their  eyes  as  he  pictured  the 
deserted  home,  the  grief-stricken  wife,  and  the 
starving  children  of  the  man  whom  they  were  asked 
to  convict.  These  unfortunate  wives  and  children 
were  an  important  scenic  feature  in  our  defence, 
and  if  the  prisoner  was  unmarried  Gottlieb  had 
little  difficulty  in  supplying  the  omission  due  to 
such  improvidence.  Some  buxom  young  woman 
with  a  child  at  the  breast  and  another  toddling  by 
her  side  could  generally  be  induced  to  come  to  court 
for  a  few  hours  for  as  many  dollars.  They  were 
always  seated  beside  the  prisoner,  but  Gottlieb  was 
scrupulous  to  avoid  any  statement  that  they  be 
longed  to  the  client.  If  the  jury  chose  to  infer  as 
much  that  was  not  our  fault.  It  was  magnificent 
to  hear  (from  the  wings)  Gottlieb  sum  up  a  case, 

88 


Artemas  Quibble 

his  hand,  in  which  was  concealed  a  pin,  caressing 
the  youngest  little  one. 

"Think,  gentlemen,  of  the  responsibility  that 
rests  upon  you  in  rendering  this  woman  a  widow 
and  depriving  this  poor  innocent  babe  of  a  father's 
protecting  love!" 

Here  Gottlieb  would  hiccough  out  a  sob, 
sprinkle  a  few  tears  upon  the  counsel  table,  and 
gently  thrust  the  pin  into  the  infant's  anatomy. 
Sob  from  Gottlieb — opportune  wail  from  the 
baby.  Verdict — not  guilty. 

There  was  a  certain  class  of  confidence  men  for 
whom  we  soon  became  the  regular  attorneys. 
They  were  a  perennial  source  of  delight  as  well  as 
profit,  and  much  of  my  time  was  given  up  to  the 
drafting  of  circulars  and  advertisements  for  the 
sale  of  stock  in  such  form  that,  whereas  they  con 
tained  no  actual  misstatement  of  an  existing  fact, 
they  nevertheless  were  calculated  to  stimulate  in 
the  most  casual  reader  an  irresistible  desire  to  sell 
all  that  he  had  and  invest  therein. 

Originally  the  dealers  in  valueless  securities  did 
not  take  the  trouble  to  purchase  any  properties 
but  merely  sold  tsheir  stock  and  decamped  with  the 
proceeds.  Of  course  such  conduct  was  most  ill- 
advised  and  unnecessary.  It  was  obviously  crim 
inal  to  sell  stock  in  a  concern  that  has  no  existence, 


The  Confessions  of 

and  several  of  my  clients  having  been  convicted 
of  grand  larceny,  for  this  reason  I  took  it  upon 
myself  to  advise  the  others  actually  to  purchase 
lands,  mines,  or  other  property  and  issue  their 
stock  against  it.  In  this  way  their  business  be 
came  absolutely  legitimate — as  strictly  honest  and 
within  the  law  as  any  of  the  stock-jobbing  con 
cerns  of  the  financial  district.  To  be  sure,  the  mine 
need  not  be  more  than  the  mere  beginning  of  a 
shaft,  if  even  that;  the  oil-well  might  have  ceased 
to  flow;  the  timber  land  might  be  only  an  acre  or 
so  in  extent;  but  at  any  rate  they  existed.  Their 
value  was  immaterial,  since  the  intending  pur 
chaser  was  not  informed  in  the  advertisement  as 
to  the  amount  of  gold,  silver,  or  copper  mined  in 
any  specific  period,  the  number  of  gallons  of  oil 
per  minute  that  flowed  from  the  well,  or  the  pre 
cise  locality  of  the  timber  forests,  but  merely  as  to 
the  glorious  future  in  store  for  all  who  subscribed 
for  the  stock. 

This  vital  distinction  has  always  existed  in  civil 
as  well  as  criminal  law  between  what  is  fraud  and 
what  is  legitimate  encouragement  to  the  buyer. 
To  tell  the  prospective  vendee  of  your  old  gray 
mare  that  she  is  the  finest  horse  in  the  county  is 
no  fraud  even  if  she  is  the  veriest  scarecrow,  for  it 
merely  represents  your  opinion — perhaps  colored 

90 


Artemas  Quibble 

in  part  by  your  desire  to  sell — and  is  not  a  matter 
of  demonstrable  fact.  To  assure  him,  however, 
that  she  has  never  run  away,  had  blind  staggers, 
or  spring  halt,  when  these  assertions  are  not  true, 
is  "a  false  statement  as  to  a  past  or  existing  fact," 
and  as  such  constitutes  a  fraud — if  he  buys  your 
horse. 

Now,  it  frequently  has  happened  in  my  experi 
ence  that  gentlemen  desiring  to  find  purchasers  for 
securities  or  property  of  little  value  have  so  care 
lessly  mingled  statements  of  fact  with  opinions, 
laudations,  and  prophecies  as  to  their  goods,  that 
juries  have  said  that  they  were  guilty  of  fraud  in 
so  doing.  Thus  the  lawyer  becomes  at  every  turn 
indispensable  to  the  business  man.  The  following 
circular  was  drawn  up  for  one  of  our  clients  and 
is  an  excellent  example  of  a  perfectly  harmless  and 
legal  advertisement  that  might  easily  become 
fraudulent.  We  will  suppose  that  the  corporation 
owned  one-quarter  of  an  acre  of  wood  lot  about  ten 
miles  from  a  region  where  copper  was  being  mined. 

SAWHIDE  COPPERS 

YOUR    LAST    CHANCE    TO    BUY   THIS    STOCK   AT    PRESENT 

FIGURES! 

The  company's  lands  are  located  near  the  heart  of 
copper  district,  not  far  from  properties  now  paying  from 
forty  to  sixty  per  cent,  a  year.  There  is  no  reason  in  the 

91 


The  Confessions  of 

world  why  Sawhide  should  not  do  as  well  if  not  better. 
With  immense  quantities  of  ore  just  beneath  the  surface, 
when  our  new  smelter  is  completed  Sawhide  will  un 
doubtedly  prove  one  of  the  best  dividend  payers  in  the 
country!  As  the  Buggenheirns  and  other  well-known 
financiers  are  largely  interested  in  the  stock,  it  is  only  a 
question  of  time  before  it  will  be  marked  up  out  of  sight. 
The  properties  have  great  surface  value  and  are  rolling 
in  timber  and  mineral  wealth. 

This  is  a  fair  example  of  a  perfectly  safe  variety 
of  advertisement  that  does  not  commit  the  author 
to  anything.  As  long  as  there  is  a  piece  of  land 
somewhere  and  an  actual  incorporated  company 
the  stock  of  which,  however  valueless,  is  being 
offered  for  sale,  the  mere  fact  that  the  writer  in 
dulges  himself  in  rosy  prophecies  does  not  en 
danger  him  so  far  as  the  criminal  law  is  concerned. 
It  is  only  when  he  foolishly — and  usually  quite  as 
unconsciously — makes  some  definite  allegation, 
such  as,  for  instance,  that  the  company  "owns  six 
hundred  acres  of  fully  developed  mining  property," 
or  has  "a  smelter  in  actual  operation  on  the 
ground,"  or  "has  earned  sixty-five  per  cent,  on  its 
capital  in  the  past  year,"  that  the  financier  runs 
the  slightest  risk.  It  may  be  that  a  purchaser 
would  find  it  so  difficult  to  prove  the  falsity  of  any 
of  the  statements  upon  which  he  had  relied  in  pur 
chasing  the  stock  that  the  vendor  would  practi- 

92 


Artemas  Quibble 

cally  be  immune,  but  in  these  days  of  muck-raking 
and  of  an  hysterical  public  conscience  prosecutors 
sometimes  go  to  the  most  absurd  lengths  and  spend 
ridiculous  amounts  of  money  out  of  the  county 
treasuries  to  send  promoters  to  jail. 

They  are  apt  to  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  however. 
I  recall  one  scheme  in  which  a  client  of  mine  was 
interested,  involving  the  flotation  of  about  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  railroad  stock. 
The  circulars,  printed  by  a  famous  engraver  and 
stationer,  were  twenty  pages  in  length  and  con 
tained  the  minutest  description  of  the  company's 
board  of  directors,  rolling  stock,  capitalization,  bond 
issues,  interests  in  other  railroads,  government 
grants  of  land,  and  the  like.  They  were  embel 
lished  with  beautiful  photogravures  of  deep  cuts, 
suspension-bridges,  snow-sheds,  railroad-yards,  and 
round-houses.  The  promoter  did  a  mail-order 
business  and  sold  the  stock  by  the  bagful  to  ele 
vator  men,  trained  nurses,  policemen,  porters, 
clerks,  and  servant  girls. 

After  he  had  salted  away  about  forty  thousand 
dollars  some  of  the  purchasers  began  to  get  anxious 
about  their  dividends.  None  were  forthcoming, 
and  as  the  promoter  was  inclined  to  be  indefinite 
as  to  future  prospects  he  was  presently  arrested. 
But  when  the  case  came  to  trial  I  pointed  out  a 

93 


Artemas  Quibble 

fact  that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  practically  no 
one  of  the  multitude  of  stockholders  had  previ 
ously  noticed,  namely,  that  the  circulars  made  no 
actual  statement  as  to  where  the  railroad  was  /o- 
cated.  By  inference  it  might  well  have  been  sup 
posed  to  be  somewhere  in  Canada,  but  there  was 
no  such  fact  clearly  alleged.  Of  course  it  was  im 
possible  for  the  prosecutor  to  prove  that  my  client 
did  not  own  a  railroad  somewhere  in  the  world  and 
the  indictment  had  to  be  dismissed.  Negations 
are  extremely  hard  to  establish,  and  therein  lies 
the  promoter's  safety.  If  he  sticks  to  generalities, 
no  matter  how  they  glitter,  he  is  immune.  Had  my 
railroad  promoter  inserted  a  single  word  descrip 
tive  of  the  location  of  his  franchise  or  his  terminals 
he  would  now  be  in  Sing  Sing  instead  of  owning  a 
steam  yacht  and  spending  his  winters  in  Florida. 
From  the  foregoing  the  reader  will  observe  that 
the  first-class  criminal  lawyer  by  no  means  devotes 
his  time  to  defending  mere  burglars  and  "strong- 
arm"  men.  The  elite  of  the  profession  do  as  gilt- 
edged  an  office  practice  as  the  most  dignified  cor 
poration  attorneys.  Indeed,  in  many  respects  their 
work  is  strictly  identical. 


94 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  firm  of  Gottlieb  &  Quibble  had  not  been 
long  established  before — quite  by  chance — a 
new  vista  of  opportunity  opened  before  us.  My 
partner  had  a  wretched  client  who,  not  unlike  many 
others,  would  go  to  more  pains  and  trouble  to  steal 
a  dollar  than  it  would  have  taken  him  to  earn 
twenty.  This,  I  have  noticed,  is  a  general  pecu 
liarity  of  lawbreakers.  The  man's  name  was  Mc- 
Duff  and  my  partner  had  defended  him  on  several 
occasions  and  had  got  him  off,  with  the  result  that 
he  was  always  hanging  about  the  office  and  asking 
if  this  or  that  were  "within  the  law."  One  fine 
day  he  was  arrested  on  the  charge  of  having  ob 
tained  money  by  false  pretences  in  a  unique  man 
ner. 

It  appeared  that  he  had  learned  through  a  ce* 
tain  bar-tender  that  one  Jones,  a  patron  of  the 
place,  had  but  recently  come  into  a  legacy  of  a 
couple  of  hundred  dollars  and,  in  connection  there 
with,  had  imbibed  so  freely  that  he  had  become  in 
volved  in  a  fist  fight  with  a  gentleman  by  the  name 

95 


The  Confessions  of 

of  Holahan  and  had  done  the  latter  considerable 
facial  damage.  McDuff  pondered  upon  these 
facts  for  some  time  over  his  beer  and  then  set  out 
to  find  Jones — not  a  difficult  task,  as  the  legatee 
was  making  a  round  of  all  the  near-by  saloons  and 
endeavoring  to  drink  up  his  good  fortune  as  rap 
idly  as  possible.  Overtaking  him  in  a  side  street 
McDufF  grasped  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

"Look  here,  Jones,"  says  he,  pretending  to  be 
an  officer;  "I  have  a  warrant  for  your  arrest  for 
committing  a  battery  upon  Thomas  Hoiahan. 
You  must  come  along  with  me  to  the  station- 
house." 

"What I     For  me!"   cries  Jones  in  an  agony  of 
dismay.     "  Sure,  I  did  nothing  to  the  man.    You'i* 
not  going  to  lock  me  up  for  that!" 

"It's  my  unpleasant  duty,"  answers  McDuff. 
"An  officer  has  no  choice  in  the  matter.  You 
must  step  along." 

"Come,  come!"  replies  Jones,  pulling  his  money 
from  his  pocket.  "Here's  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars.  Say  you  couldn't  find  me!" 

"I  would  be  taking  a  great  risk,"  responds  the 
supposed  officer.  "  Have  you  no  more  than  that  ? " 

"I  have  my  gold  watch  and  chain,"  returned 
Jones.  "You  can  have  them  and  welcome — only 
let  me  go!" 


Artemas  Quibble 

The  bargain  was  struck  then  and  there  and  the 
transfer  from  Jones'  pockets  to  those  of  McDufF 
effected.  Unfortunately,  however,  Jones  next  day 
discovered  that  Holahan  harbored  no  ill-will 
against  him  and  that  the  supposed  officer  was 
nothing  of  the  kind.  Rising  in  his  wrath,  he  in 
turn  procured  a  warrant  for  McDuff  and  caused 
his  arrest  and  indictment.  The  trial  came  off  and 
despite  Gottlieb's  best  efforts  his  client  was  con 
victed  by  the  jury  of  stealing  Jones'  watch,  chain, 
and  money  by  falsely  representing  himself  to  be  an 
officer  of  the  law.  The  case  went  on  appeal  to  the 
Supreme  Court,  which  affirmed  the  conviction,  and 
there  seemed  no  escape  for  McDuff  from  a  term  in 
prison. 

One  evening  Gottlieb  and  I  got  talking  about 
the  case  among  other  things. 

"How  is  it,"  said  I,  "that  the  criminal  law  will 
step  in  and  give  a  man  back  his  money  when,  un 
der  precisely  the  same  circumstances,  the  civil 
law  will  let  him  whistle  ?" 

"What  mean  you  by  that  ?"   asked  my  partner. 

"Why,"  answered  I,  "the  civil  law  will  not  settle 
disputes  between  thieves,  it  will  not  enforce  an 
equitable  division  of  stolen  property,  and  it  will 
not  compel  rogues  to  keep  a  dishonest  contract 
between  themselves.  Now  this  fellow,  Jones,  it 

97 


The  Confessions  of 

seems  to  me,  was  almost  as  bad  as  your  friend 
McDuff.  He  tried  to  induce  a  man  he  thought 
was  a  sworn  officer  of  the  law  to  violate  his  oath 
and  disregard  his  duty.  Why  should  the  criminal 
law  do  anything  for  him  ?  Why  should  it  hand 
him  back  his  money  as  if  he  were  an  innocent  and 
honest  man  ?" 

"It  is  an  ingenious  argument,"  replied  Gottlieb, 
scratching  his  ear;  "and  yet  it  is  poppycock  for  all 
that.  The  criminal  law  is  to  punish  criminals. 
According  to  your  reasoning,  two  wrongs  would 
make  a  right  and  two  thieves  one  honest  man. 
Would  you  let  McDuff  go  unpunished  simply  be 
cause  he  was  clever  enough  to  induce  Jones  to  try 
to  break  the  law  as  well  as  himself?  Why,  any 
judge  would  laugh  you  out  of  court  on  such  a 
proposition." 

"But,"  I  retorted,  "surely,  if  I  gave  you  a  hun 
dred  dollars  for  the  purpose  of  bribing  a  judge  and 
you  failed  to  accomplish  your  purpose,  no  court 
would  assist  me  to  recover  the  money.  'Twould 
be  against  public  policy  and  contra  bonos  mores." 

"Even  so,"  answered  my  partner,  "would  it  not 
be  more  contra  lonos  mores  to  let  a  thief  go  un 
punished,  once  he  had  been  arrested  ?  Take  my 
word,  Quib,  there's  nothing  in  it,"  insisted  Gott 
lieb  warmly.  "For  instance,  there  is  the  crime 


Artemas  Quibble 

against  usury — a  very  foolish  law  to  be  sure,  but 
there  it  is.  No  one  can  commit  usury  unless  some 
one  else  participates  in  the  offense  by  paying  the 
unlawful  interest;  but  the  usurer  does  not  escape 
on  that  account.  Why,  then,  should  the  false  pre 
tender  in  our  case?" 

"I  admit  the  force  of  your  analogy,"  said  I, 
"and  I  could  easily  suggest  others  myself.  Brib 
ery,  for  instance;  extortion  and  many  other  of 
fences,  where  the  law  does  not  refrain  from  punish 
ing  the  one  because  the  other  is  equally  guilty. 
But  the  cases  differ  in  that,  in  bribery,  the  briber 
is  seeking  to  influence  the  acts  of  an  official;  and, 
in  extortion,  the  law  imputes  an  element  of  force 
which  is  supposed  to  overcome  the  will  of  the  per 
son  paying  the  money.  I  am  not  so  clear  on  your 
usury.  Still,  I  believe  there  is  a  fair  fighting 
chance  to  win  the  case  on  my  theory." 

"If  you  think  so,"  grumbled  Gottlieb,  "you  had 
better  argue  it  yourself  before  the  Court  of  Ap 
peals." 

"Very  well,"  said  I.  "Nothing  will  give  me 
greater  pleasure." 

It  was  with  some  trepidation,  however,  that  I 
went  to  Albany  to  argue,  before  so  august  a  body 
of  judges,  a  proposition  of  law  that  had  in  reality 
so  little  to  commend  it;  particularly  as  I  was  op- 

99 


The  Confessions  of 

posed  in  person  by  the  district  attorney  of  New 
York  County — a  man  of  great  learning  and  power 
of  sarcasm.  However,  I  found  the  Court  of  Ap 
peals  much  interested  in  my  argument  and  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  them  put  many  puzzling  ques 
tions  to  my  opponent,  in  answering  which  he  was 
not  always  altogether  successful. 

Pending  the  opinion  of  the  Court,  which  was  not 
handed  down  for  several  months,  an  incident  oc 
curred  in  our  practice  that  may  serve  to  amuse  the 
reader  if  not  to  illustrate  the  dangers  of  ignorance. 
We  were  engaged  in  a  litigation  in  the  United 
States  District  Court,  where  the  subpoenas  for  the 
witnesses  are  issued  by  the  clerk  to  the  deputy  mar 
shals  for  service.  Our  opponent  in  the  case  was  a 
testy  old  member  of  the  bar  over  sixty  years  of  age 
and  of  the  very  highest  respectability  and  standing, 
who  had  several  times  refused  elevation  to  the 
bench  and  who  was  regarded  as  the  personification 
of  dignity  and  learning.  Unfortunately  his  ap 
pearance  belied  his  position,  for  he  was  almost  to 
tally  bald  and  his  face  was  as  weazened  and 
wrinkled  as  that  of  a  monkey. 

It  so  happened  that  we  desired  to  have  in  court 
the  following  day  certain  papers  that  were  in  his 
possession;  and,  in  order  that  we  might  be  in  a 
position  to  introduce  copies  of  them  in  case  he 

100 


Artemas  Quibble 

failed  to  produce  the  originals,  we  secured  what 
is  called  a  duces  tecum  subpoena  for  him — that  is 
to  say,  a  subpoena  directing  him  to  bring  with  him 
— duces  tecum — "bring  with  you" — the  papers  in 
question.  There  had  recently  been  appointed  as 
a  deputy  marshal  a  very  honest  and  enthusiastic, 
but  exceedingly  ignorant  Irishman  named  Hen 
nessey,  who,  prior  to  his  advent  into  officialdom, 
had  been  employed  at  heaving  coal  at  a  dollar  and 
eighty  cents  a  day.  The  clerk  called  him  into  his 
office  and  handed  to  him  our  subpoena. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "here  is  a  subpoena  for  Win- 
throp  Van  Rennsellaer" — our  worthy  opponent. 
"It  is  a  duces  tecum.  Understand?" 

"Shure,  I  do!"  answered  Mike,  wiping  his 
mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand  and  taking  the 
paper;  for,  though  he  had  no  idea  what  duces  tecum 
meant,  he  had  no  intention  of  disclosing  that  fact. 

"It's  important,"  continued  the  clerk.  "Be 
sure  and  attend  to  the  matter  at  once." 

"Lave  that  to  me!"   Mike  assured  him. 

"Don't  forget  that  it's  a  duces  tecum"  admon 
ished  the  clerk  as  Mike  passed  out  of  the  door. 

"Not  on  yer  life!"  replied  the  newly  appointed 
deputy. 

Outside,  he  found  a  fellow  deputy,  also  newly 
appointed. 

101 


The  Confessions  of 


€< 


Pat,"  said  Mike,  holding  out  the  subpoena, 
"phat  is  the  meanin'  o'  thim  two  wurrds  ?" 

His  friend  carefully  examined  the  paper. 

"'Duces  tecum9,"  he  repeated  thoughtfully. 
"'Dooces  taycum'  They  be  Latin  wurrds  mean- 
in'  'take  him  alive  or  dead/" 

"Thanks,"  said  Mike.     "Trust  me!" 

And  he  started  forthwith  for  Wall  Street,  where 
Mr.  Winthrop  Van  Rennsellaer's  office  was  lo 
cated.  Having  ascertained  by  inquiry  that  his 
quarry  was  in,  Mike  pushed  by  the  clerks  and 
scriveners  in  the  outer  offices  and  armed  with  the 
majesty  of  the  law,  boldly  forced  his  way  into  the 
lawyer's  sanctum.  Marching  up  to  him,  he  de 
manded  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Are  you  Van  Rennsellaer?" 

The  lawyer,  exceedingly  astonished,  replied, 
with  what  dignity  he  was  able  to  assume  under  the 
circumstances: 

"I  am  Mister  Winthrop  Van  Rennsellaer." 

"Come  wid  me!"   ordered  Mike. 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind!"  retorted  the 
lawyer,  getting  red  in  the  face. 

" Y*  won't,  eh  ?"  exclaimed  the  deputy;  and, 
grasping  Mr.  Winthrop  Van  Rennsellaer  by  his 
linen  collar,  he  yanked  him  out  of  his  chair  and, 
to  the  horror  of  the  servile  supernumeraries  in  the 

102 


Artemas  Quibble 

lawyer's  employ,  dragged  that  eminent  member  of 
the  bar  through  his  own  offices,  down  the  stairs, 
and  into  the  street. 

The  lawyer  protested  loudly  at  the  indignities 
to  which  he  was  being  subjected  and  a  large  crowd 
gathered,  which  for  the  time  being  blocked  Broad 
way.  Mike,  confident  that  he  had  the  authority 
of  the  United  States  Government  behind  him,  ex 
hibited  his  badge,  called  upon  the  police  to  assist 
him  in  the  exercise  of  his  duty  and  proceeded  tri 
umphantly  to  march  Mr.  Winthrop  Van  Renn- 
sellaer,  hatless,  up  the  street  at  the  head  of  a  large 
and  enthusiastic  procession  of  interested  citizens. 
From  time  to  time  Mike  would  turn  and  call  upon 
the  crowd  to  disperse,  at  the  same  time  announcing 
in  a  loud  voice  that  he  had  arrested  his  prisoner 
by  an  order  of  the  Government  to  take  him  alive  or 
dead. 

By  this  time  the  lawyer's  little  round  head  was 
glowing  a  bright  red  and  his  legs  almost  refused  to 
carry  him.  Once  they  had  arrived  at  the  Post- 
office  Building  the  mistake  was  quickly  discovered 
and  Mr.  Van  Rennsellaer  was  set  at  liberty;  but 
each  and  every  United  States  judge  had  to  descend 
in  his  robes  from  the  bench  and  implore  his  pardon 
before  the  furious  little  lawyer  would  consent  to 
call  a  cab  and  return  to  his  office. 

103 


The  Confessions  of 

I  understand  that  he  always  believed  that  the 
whole  thing  was  a  trick  of  Gottlieb's  to  humiliate 
him;  and,  indeed,  some  members  of  the  bar  have 
suspected  me  of  the  same  thing — entirely  without 
justification,  of  course.  During  the  rest  of  his  ex 
ceedingly  distinguished  career  one  had  only  to  men 
tion  the  words  duces  tecum  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Winthrop  Van  Rennsellaer  to  deprive  him  in 
stantly  of  his  composure;  in  fact,  for  a  long  time 
he  abandoned  appearing  in  court  and  contented 
himself  with  nursing  his  dignity  in  his  office.  I 
should  add  that  the  incident  so  affected  his  confi 
dence  the  next  day  in  court  that  we  won  our  case 
without  difficulty. 

But  to  return  to  the  unfortunate  McDuflF.  To 
my  great  astonishment  and  still  more  so  to  that  of 
my  partner  the  Court  of  Appeals  handed  down  an 
opinion  sustaining  my  contention  and  holding  his 
client's  conviction  to  be  illegal.  That  night  Gott 
lieb  and  I,  sitting  in  his  office,  shook  our  sides  with 
laughter  at  the  idea  of  having  hoodwinked  the 
greatest  court  in  the  State  into  a  solemn  opinion 
that  a  rogue  should  not  be  punished  if  at  the  same 
time  he  could  persuade  his  victim  to  try  to  be  a 
rogue  also!  But  there  it  was  in  cold  print.  They 
had  followed  my  reasoning  absolutely  and  even 
adopted  as  their  own  some  of  the  language  used  in 

104. 


Artemas  Quibble 

my  brief.  Does  any  one  of  my  readers  doubt  me, 
let  him  read  the  report  of  a  like  case  in  the  forty- 
sixth  volume  of  the  reports  of  the  Court  of  Appeals 
of  New  York,  at  page  four  hundred  and  seventy. 

Said  the  Court:  "The  prosecutor" — Jones — 
"  parted  with  his  property  as  an  inducement  to  a 
supposed  officer  to  violate  the  law  and  his  duties; 
and  if  in  attempting  to  do  this  he  has  been  de 
frauded  the  law  will  not  punish  his  confederate, 
although  such  confederate  may  have  been  instru 
mental  in  inducing  the  commission  of  the  offence. 
Neither  the  law  nor  public  policy  designs  the  pro 
tection  of  rogues  in  their  dealings  with  each  other, 
or  to  insure  fair  dealing  and  truthfulness,  as  be 
tween  each  other,  in  their  dishonest  practices." 
(This  sentence  had  been  in  my  brief.)  "The  de 
sign  of  the  law  is  to  protect  those  who,  for  some 
honest  purpose,  are  induced  upon  false  and  fraudu 
lent  representations  to  give  credit  or  part  with  their 
property  to  another,  and  not  to  protect  those  who, 
for  unworthy  or  illegal  purposes,  part  with  their 
goods." 

"Why,  Quib,"  quoth  Gottlieb,  "you  are  the  dis 
coverer  of  a  new  legal  principle.  You  will  inau 
gurate  a  new  field  of  human  activity.  Genera 
tions  yet  unborn  will  profit  by  your  ingenuity. 
From  now  on  every  rascal  in  the  land  will  set  his 

105 


The  Confessions  of 

wits  to  work  trying  to  bring  his  schemes  within 
the  scope  of  this  beneficent  opinion." 

"Indeed,"  I  replied,  "however  fine  it  may  be  for 
McDuff,  I  can  easily  see  that  I  have  unloosed 
as  many  troubles  as  ever  flew  out  of  Pandora's 
Box." 

"Yes — but  to  our  profit,"  he  retorted,  with  a 
grin.  "Don't  forget  that.  The  inventors  will  all 
come  flocking  straight  to  us  to  get  them  out  of 
their  difficulties — you  may  be  sure  of  it!" 

"'Tis  extraordinary,"  I  said,  "what  a  multitude 
of  opportunities  this  new  principle  enunciated  by 
the  Court  of  Appeals  affords  to  a  man  of  an  inven 
tive  turn  of  mind.  As  I  take  it,  all  one  has  to  do 
is  to  induce  another  to  part  with  his  money  in  the 
belief  that  he  is  going  to  take  a  sharp  advantage  of 
some  one  else.  For  example,  let  us  suppose  that  I 
go  to  some  person  and  falsely  tell  him  that  I  have  a 
client  serving  a  term  in  Sing  Sing  for  burglary  who 
has  confided  to  me  the  whereabouts  of  the  secret 
hiding-place  of  his  loot.  All  that  is  necessary  is 
some  one  to  put  up  sufficient  money  to  cover  the 
expense  of  transportation  and  excavation — and  it 
can  be  divided  between  us.  For  this  purpose  he 
intrusts  me  with  several  hundred  dollars,  with 
which  I  make  off.  I  have  stolen  the  money  fast 
enough,  but  I  can  never  be  punished  for  it." 

106 


Artemas  Quibble 

cr Exactly!"  exclaimed  my  partner.  "And  here 
is  another  idea  that  is  well  calculated  to  appeal  to 
almost  anybody.  It  has  just  occurred  to  me  quite 
involuntarily  while  you  were  speaking.  Many  of 
our  clients  want  to  know  if  they  cannot  send  the 
judge,  who  is  trying  their  case,  a  present  of  some 
sort,  or  maybe  loan  him  a  little  money;  and  it  is 
always  distressing  to  be  obliged  to  tell  them — usu 
ally — that  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question;  that  it 
would  only  get  them  into  trouble.  Of  course,  oc 
casionally  we  let  them  send  the  judge  a  box  of 
cigars,  but  always  with  the  compliments  of  our  ad 
versary — never  our  own.  Now  this  shows  how 
readily  persons  who  are  mixed  up  in  lawsuits  or 
other  difficulties  would  be  ready  to  put  up  their 
money  if  they  supposed  the  judge  were  going  to 
get  it.  All  you  need  is  some  unscrupulous  fellow 
to  go  up  to  one  of  our  clients  and  mention  the  fact 
that  he  is  the  judge's  brother-in-law  and  is  in  dearth 
of  ready  money.  Can't  you  see  the  client  digging  up 
the  needful  ?  He'd  be  stuffing  it  down  our  friend's 
pockets  before  he  got  through  speaking;  and  the 
whole  thing  could  be  done  quite  openly,  you  observe, 
because,  even  if  the  client  found  out  later  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake,  the  law  would  not  help  him." 

"An  excellent  illustration,"  I  answered,  "of  the 
uses  to  which  a  legal  decision  may  be  put." 

107 


The  Confessions  of 

"Indeed,  though,"  continued  Gottlieb,  "the 
scheme  need  by  no  means  be  as  raw  as  all  that. 
It  is  enough  if  there  be  merely  an  immoral  or  im 
proper  motive  that  induces  the  victim  to  part  with 
his  money.  For  example,  if  he  but  thinks  that 
he  can  do  a  sharp  trick  to  some  one  else.  Let  us 
suppose  that  I  pretend  to  have  secret  information  to 
the  effect  that  certain  property  is  really  much  more 
valuable  than  the  owner  supposes  it  to  be.  I  pro 
pose  to  another  that — if  he  will  put  up  the  money  for 
that  purpose — we  shall  buy  the  property,  leading 
the  owner  to  suppose  that  he  is  getting  full  value 
for  it.  Now,  if,  to  induce  the  latter  to  make  the  sale, 
it  is  agreed  between  us  that  we  make  false  or  mis 
leading  statements  as  to  the  real  value  of  the  prop 
erty  I  do  not  see  but  that  I  would  be  perfectly  safe." 

"Safe?"  I  queried.  "I  don't  understand.  You 
would  have  bought  the  property,  that  is  all." 

"My  dear  Quib,"  returned  my  partner,  "you 
seem  singularly  dull  this  evening  for  one  of  such 
brilliant  parts.  The  point  is  that  the  property 
really  isn't  worth  anything.  I  am  in  cahoot  with 
the  man  who  sells  it;  and  we  divide  even!" 

"Yes,"  I  answered;  "a  dozen  similar  schemes 
could  be  worked  liked  that." 

"A  dozen!"  cried  Gottlieb,  bounding  enthusi 
astically  out  of  his  chair  and  commencing  to  stalk 

108 


Artemas  Quibble 

up  and  down  the  room.  "A  hundred!  Why, 
there  are  endless  ways  in  which  it  can  be  worked — - 
and  I  know  the  man  to  work  them  too!" 

"Eh!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  mean,  who  will  undoubtedly  avail  himself  of 
some  of  them,"  he  corrected  himself.  "Take  this 
case:  It  is  a  crime  under  the  law  to  give  back  or 
rebate  part  of  the  premium  on  a  life  insurance 
policy.  Now  many  a  man  could  be  induced  to  in 
sure  his  life  if  he  could  get  back  the  first  year's 
premium.  All  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  tell  him 
that  you  are  an  insurance  agent  and  will  give  it 
back — and  then  put  the  money  in  your  own  pocket, 
for  he  will  have  given  you  the  premium  for  an 
illegal  purpose — that  is  to  say,  with  the  idea  of 
having  it  paid  back  to  him  contrary  to  law.  Un 
der  the  decision  he  will  have  no  chance  to  get  you 
arrested." 

"Never  say  that  you  are  not  a  man  of  ingenuity 
yourself,"  said  I. 

I  bade  my  partner  good-night  and  walked  slowly 
homeward  meditating  upon  the  wonders  of  the 
law,  but  totally  unconscious  of  what  a  harvest 
was  to  be  reaped  from  the  seed  I  had  sown  so 
innocently. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  after  this  that,  happening 
to  enter  the  office  somewhat  unexpectedly  one 

109 


The  Confessions  of 

evening,  I  discovered  Gottlieb  in  animated  con 
verse  with  a  stockily  built  man  of  about  forty  years 
of  age,  whose  coal-black  hair — by  far  his  most  con 
spicuous  feature — had  been  suffered  to  grow  quite 
long  and  was  parted  evenly  in  the  middle,  so  that 
it  gave  him  somewhat  the  appearance  of  the 
hooded  seal  that  was  then  on  exhibition  at  P.  T. 
Barnum's  museum.  He  had  a  good-humored  face, 
jet-black  eyes,  and  a  familiar,  easy  way  with  him 
that  put  one  on  a  friendly  footing  at  once. 

"Hello!  Quib!"  exclaimed  my  partner.  "I 
want  you  to  meet  my  friend,  Charlie  Billington." 

"Delighted  to  meet  you,  Mister  Quibble,"  cried 
the  stranger,  grasping  my  hand.  "Our  friend 
Gottlieb  knows  me  almost  better  than  I  know  my 
self — eh,  Gottie?  Between  us  we  have  turned 
many  a  trick." 

"You  mean  that  I  have  pulled  you  out  of  many  a 
bad  hole,"  retorted  Gottlieb. 

"As  you  please,"  answered  Billington  good  tern- 
peredly.  "  But  in  any  event  you  are  a  splendid  fel 
low  at  all  times — and  especially  in  times  of  need." 

"May  I  inquire  your  business,  Mr.  Billington  ?" 
I  asked,  curious  to  identify  my  new  acquaintance. 

Billington  winked  at  Gottlieb. 

"How  would  you  describe  it,  Mr.  Lawyer?'* 
said  he. 

no 


Artemas  Quibble 

Gottlieb  laughed  and  shifted  his  cigar. 

"Our  friend  Charlie  lives  by  his  brains,"  he  re 
plied.  "He  is  an  inventor,  a  promoter,  an  artist. 
He  has  earned  many  a  small  fortune  by  the  simple 
use  of  a  postage  stamp.  He  can  extract  gold  from 
seawater  or  silver  from  pineapples.  Incidentally, 
he  is  of  a  scientific  turn  of  mind  and  can  rattle  off 
the  Morse  alphabet  as  deftly  as  any  operator  in  the 
business.  Occasionally  he  has,  in  the  interest  of 
finance,  tapped  a  wire." 

"Tapped  a  wire!"  Instantly  I  regarded  Bil- 
lington  with  new  interest.  So  at  last  I  had  met  one 
of  those  famous  gentry  of  whom  I  had  so  often 
heard! 

"Never  again,  I  fancy!"  laughed  Charlie.  "My 
friend,  you  have  saved  a  lot  of  poor  devils  a  deal 
of  trouble.  From  this  time  on  none  of  us  will  ever 
need  to  tap  wires.  After  this  we  shall  only  pre 
tend  to  tap  *em." 

"How  so  ?"  I  inquired,  dropping  into  a  near-by 
chair. 

"Why,  under  the  new  law,"  responded  Billing- 
ton — "the  law  of  which,  I  may  say,  you  are  the 
creator — we  shall  only  have  to  induce  some  inno 
cent  countryman  to  believe  that  he  has  heard  the 
result  of  a  horse-race  being  sent  over  the  wire  in  ad 
vance  of  die  pool  rooms,  and  persuade  him  to  turn 

in 


The  Confessions  of 

over  his  roll  for  the  purpose  of  betting  it  on  a  horse 
that  is  presumably  already  cooling  off  in  the  pad 
dock  and  we  can  keep  his  money;  for  he  has  parted 
with  it  for  an  illegal  or  an  inimical  purpose — to  wit, 
cheating  the  bookies." 

"Not  with  my  sanction!"  I  retorted,  somewhat 
aghast  at  the  idea  of  having  paved  a  broad  and  easy 
path  for  the  way  of  criminals. 

"Tut,  tut,  Quib!"  said  Gottlieb.  "You  have 
nothing  to  do  with  what  use  our  friend  here  sees 
fit  to  put  your  law  to.  I  have  never  yet  advised 
any  man  how  to  do  an  ilkgal  thing.  The  most  I 
have  ever  done  has  been  to  show  some  of  my  clients 
how  to  do  in  a  perfectly  legal  manner  that  which 
had  heretofore  been  unlawful." 

"Yea,  Gottlieb,"  remarked  Billington.  "And 
many  things  that  before  were  accounted  faults  have 
now,  thanks  to  you,  become  virtues." 

After  Billington  bade  us  good-night,  Gottlieb 
said  to  me: 

"  Quib,  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  astound 
ing  is  the  result  of  this  new  doctrine  of  yours  that 
has  been  sanctified  by  the  Court  of  Appeals.  I 
do  not  for  the  life  of  me  see  how  a  seller  of  'green 
goods'  can  be  prosecuted.  The  countryman  comes 
to  the  city  for  the  purpose  of  buying  counterfeit 
money  at  a  ridiculously  low  figure.  He  puts  up 

112 


Artemas  Quibble 

his  money  and  gets  a  package  of  blank  paper  with 
a  genuine  one-dollar  bill  on  top  of  it.  What  good 
will  it  do  him  to  appeal  to  the  police  ?  Has  he  not 
parted  with  his  money  avowedly  for  a  most  wicked 
purpose — that  of  uttering  counterfeit  bills  ?" 

"I  quite- agree  with  you,"  I  answered.  "There 
seems  to  be  no  escape  from  your  result:  and  I,  for 
one,  do  not  see  what  is  to  prevent  New  York  from 
becoming  the  Mecca  of  all  the  thieves  and  rogues 
in  the  country." 

And  such,  indeed,  it  became.  From  this  time 
on,  until  very  recently,  the  metropolis  was  the 
stamping  ground  of  all  the  rogues  who  could  not 
earn  a  dishonest  living  elsewhere.  With  our  friend 
Charles  as  their  sponser,  there  sprang  into  being 
herds  of  "sick  engineers,"  fake  "wire-tappers," 
"green-goods"  swindlers,  and  confidence  men  of 
all  sorts,  who  flourished  safely  under  the  protection 
of  the  decision  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  in  McDufFs 
case. 

It  was  but  shortly  after  this  that  one  of  Billing- 
ton's  friends  found  himself  in  the  toils  of  the  police 
for  having  pretended  to  sell  a  package  of  "green 
goods"  to  a  yokel  from  the  rural  part  of  the  State. 
Charlie  at  once  engaged  me  to  defend  him,  asserting 
that  as  I  was  responsible  for  the  law  it  was  my  duty 
to  apply  it  for  the  benefit  of  our  clients.  So  once 

"3 


Artemas  Quibble 

again  I  entered  the  arena  in  behalf  of  a  principle 
that  at  heart  I  believed  to  be  vicious  and  even 
absurd,  and  once  again,  to  my  surprise  and  the 
delight  of  my  new  clients,  I  triumphed.  The  Ap 
pellate  Division  reversed  the  conviction  that  had 
followed  the  arrest  and  discharged  the  prisoner, 
asserting  that  there  was  no  longer  any  authority 
for  holding  him  if  the  McDuff  case  was  to  be  taken 
as  law. 

Thus  it  was,  by  such  unconscious  steps,  that  I, 
the  only  son  of  a  clergyman,  found  myself — willy- 
nilly — a  leader  of  the  criminal  bar.  Yet  at  no 
time  during  my  career  would  I  have  exchanged 
places  with  my  honored  parent  or  even  with  Mr. 
Tuckerman  Toddleham,  of  Barristers  Hall,  Bos 
ton* 


114 


CHAPTER  VI 

AS  I  jot  down  these  random  reminiscences  I  am 
impressed  in  a  singular  fashion  with  the  fact 
that  my  career  consisted  entirely  in  the  making,  or 
rather  getting,  of  money  and  the  spending  of  it.  I 
had  no  particular  professional  ambitions  and  never 
but  once  sought  distinction  as  a  constitutional  law 
yer;  and,  however  unworthy  of  an  officer  of  the 
court  such  a  confession  may  be,  I  am  quite  ready 
to  admit  that  a  seat  upon  the  bench  would  have 
afforded  me  neither  amusement  nor  sufficient  com 
pensation  to  satisfy  my  desires.  Let  other  men 
find  their  gratification  and  emolument  in  the  sup 
posed  honor  of  wearing  the  ermine !  I  have  never 
found  that  a  judge  became  any  the  less  an  erring 
human  being  after  his  elevation  to  the  dais,  and  I 
could  rake  out  of  one  good  semi-criminal  case 
twice  the  salary  of  any  judge  on  the  supreme  bench. 
What  is  popularly  regarded  as  respectability  is  oft- 
times  in  reality — if  the  truth  were  known — merely 
stodginess  and  stupidity. 

"5 


The  Confessions  of 

I  am  compelled  to  admit  that  in  my  early  days, 
before  I  had  formed  my  affiliation  with  Gottlieb,  I 
had  different  ambitions,  although  they  were  none 
the  less  worldly.  Then  I  wanted  to  be  a  judge  be 
cause  I  supposed  a  judge  was  the  king-pin  of  the 
profession.  Now,  as  Pat  'Flanagan  says,  "  I  know 
different."  The  judge  is  apt  to  be  no  less  a  tool 
of  the  boss  than  any  other  public  officer  elected  by 
the  suffrages  of  a  political  party.  He  is  merely 
less  obviously  so.  There  are  a  few  men  in  Wall 
Street  who  can  press  a  button  and  call  for  almost 
any  judge  they  want — and  he  will  come — and  ad 
journ  court  if  necessary  to  do  so — with  his  silk 
hat  in  his  hand.  And  if  any  young  aspirant  for 
legal  honors  who  reads  these  fugitive  memoirs  be 
lieves  that  the  road  to  the  supreme  bench  leads 
via  Blackstone,  and  is  lighted  by  the  midnight  oil 
of  study,  let  him  disabuse  himself  of  that  idea, 
but  seek  rather  the  district  leader;  and  let  him 
make  himself  useful  in  getting  the  boys  that  are  in 
trouble  out  of  it.  Under  our  elective  system  there 
is  no  more  honor  in  being  a  judge  than  in  being  a 
sheriff  or  a  hog-reeve;  but,  when  one  is  young — 
and  perhaps  starving — it  may  seem  otherwise. 

If  any  of  my  lay  readers  believe  that  the  practice 
of  the  law  is  a  path  of  dalliance,  let  him  but  hazard 
his  fortunes  for  a  brief  space  on  the  good  ship 

116 


Artemas  Quibble 

Jurisprudence — he  will  find  the  voyage  tedious  be 
yond  endurance,  the  ship's  company  but  indifferent 
in  character  and  the  rations  scanty.  I  make  no 
doubt  but  that  it  is  harder  to  earn  an  honest  liv 
ing  at  the  law  than  by  any  other  means  of  liveli 
hood.  Once  one  discovers  this  he  must  perforce 
choose  whether  he  will  remain  a  galley  slave  for  life 
or  hoist  the  Jolly  Roger  and  turn  freebooter,  with  a 
chance  of  dangling  betimes  from  his  own  yard-arm. 

Many  a  man  has  literally  starved  at  the  law. 
And  most  of  the  profession  nearly  do  so;  while 
some,  by  merest  luck,  have  managed  to  struggle  on 
until  they  stumbled  upon  some  professional  gold 
mine.  I  have  heard  many  stories  of  how  some 
young  men  managed  to  pull  success  out  of  disaster 
when  the  odds  seemed  overwhelming.  One  which 
has  particularly  appealed  to  me  I  shall  call  the 
anecdote  of  The  Most  Capable  Young  Lawyer  in 
New  York. 

Some  years  ago  there  came  to  the  great  city  a 
young  fellow  who  had  always  lived  in  a  country 
town  where  the  neighbors  were  all  such  good 
friends  that  they  never  went  to  law.  He  was  able 
and  industrious,  but  in  his  native  place  found  it 
almost  impossible  to  earn  a  living;  and  when  by 
chance  he  met  a  well-known  and  prosperous  attor 
ney  from  New  York  who  advised  him  to  seek  his 

117 


The  Confessions  of 

fortune  in  the  whirlpool  rather  than  in  the  back 
eddies  of  life,  he  decided  to  follow  the  suggestion. 

"I  will  endeavor  to  throw  you  something  from 
time  to  time,"  said  the  prosperous  lawyer,  for  it 
made  him  feel  his  own  success  to  see  such  a  poor 
young  man  and  it  tickled  his  vitals  into  benignity. 

The  country  boy  sold  all  his  possessions  for  a 
few  hundred  dollars  and  came  to  New  York.  His 
friend  was  very  kind  in  his  manner  and  prolific  of 
advice,  but,  unfortunately,  he  had  no  room  in  his 
own  office  for  q.  junior  or  even  an  errand-boy.  So 
Peters,  for  that  was  the  young  man's  name, 
dragged  himself  up  and  down  the  city  trying  to  find 
an  opening,  no  matter  how  small.  He  was  too  old 
to  begin  as  a  clerk  and  too  much  of  a  bumpkin  for 
anything  else,  and  he  found  that  nobody  had  any 
use  for  a  young  man  of  his  particular  type  and 
training.  At  last,  in  despair,  he  hired  desk-room 
in  an  office,  shared  jointly  by  half  a  dozen  young 
men  like  himself,  and  waited  for  something  to  turn 
up;  but  nothing  came.  His  bank  account  fell 
lower  and  lower,  and  he  became  more  and  more 
shabby.  Moreover,  he  was  eating  his  heart  out 
with  disappointment,  for  he  could  not  return  to  his 
native  town  and  confess  himself  a  failure. 

From  time  to  time  he  would  drop  into  his  pros 
perous  friend's  offices,  but  the  latter  never  had  any- 

118 


Artemas  Quibble 

thing  to  turn  over  to  him  and  he  would  return  de 
jectedly  to  his  own  solitary  desk.  At  last  he  was 
forced  to  give  up  lunch  and  get  along  as  best  he 
could  on  two  scanty  meals  a  day;  he  grew  thin 
and  haggard,  his  Adam's  apple  projected  redly 
above  a  frayed  collar,  his  trousers  grew  wrinkled 
and  shiny,  and  he  looked  ready  to  take  his  place  in 
the  "  bread  line."  Finally  he  spent  his  last  cent  on 
a  pretzel  and  made  ready  to  "turn  in  his  checks." 

At  this  point  Peters  paid  a  last  visit  to  his  friend, 
who  was  visibly  shocked  at  his  emaciated  appear 
ance,  for  his  eyes  burned  with  the  fever  of  starva 
tion  and  his  jaw  was  set  in  a  pitiful  determination 
to  keep  going  until  he  dropped. 

"Mr.  Banks,"  said  he  grimly,  "unless  you  give 
me  something  to  do  I'll  go  under.  The  fact  is, 
I'm  starving!" 

Mr.  Banks  looked  at  him  critically. 

"Pretty  near  ready  to  give  up,  eh?"  he  re 
marked.  "Better  chuck  it  and  go  back!  I  guess 
I  was  wrong  when  I  told  you  to  come  down  here." 

"Not  yet,"  answered  Peters  doggedly.  "When 
I  go  back  it'll  be  in  a  wooden  box." 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Banks,  "I'm  sorry;  but 
there  isn't  a  thing  in  this  office  I  can  give  you."  He 
pondered  a  minute.  "I've  got  a  lot  of  old  judg 
ments  against  a  fellow  named  Rosenheim — in  the 

119 


The  Confessions  of 

cigar  business;  but  he's  no  good — judgment  proof 
— and  they  aren't  worth  the  paper  they're  written 


on." 


"Give  them  to  me!"  almost  shouted  Peters. 

Mr.  Banks  laughed. 

"You  can  have  ninety  per  cent,  of  all  you  col 
lect,"  said  he  as  he  bent  over  and,  pulling  out  a 
lower  drawer,  removed  a  bundle  of  soiled  docu 
ments.  "  Here  they  are.  My  blessing  to  you ! " 

Peters  grabbed  the  transcripts  and  staggered 
down  the  stairs.  It  took  him  less  than  ten  minutes 
to  find  Mr.  Simon  Rosenheim,  who  was  sitting  in 
side  a  brass  fence  at  a  mahogany  desk,  smoking 
one  of  the  best  of  his  own  cigars. 

"Mr.  Rosenheim,"  said  Peters,  "I  have  some 
judgments  here  against  you,  amounting  to  about 
three  thousand  dollars." 

"Yes?"  remarked  Rosenheim  politely. 

"Can  you  let  me  have  the  money?"  inquired 
Peters. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  retorted  Rosenheim,  with  an 
oily  sneer,  "I  owe  the  money  all  right,  but  I  don't 
own  a  thing  in  the  world.  Everything  in  this  room 
belongs  to  my  wife.  The  amount  of  money  I  owe 
is  really  something  shocking.  Even  what  is  in  the 
safe" — he  nodded  to  a  large  affair  on  the  other 
side  of  the  room — "belongs  to  somebody  else." 

120 


Artemas  Quibble 

Rosenheim  had  been  through  this  same  perform 
ance  hundreds  of  times  before,  but  not  with  the 
same  denouement. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  lean  young  man,  with  hollow 
cheeks  and  blazing  eyes,  leap  over  the  brass  railing. 
In  another  instant  horny  hands  grasped  him  fiercely 
by  the  windpipe  and  a  voice  hissed  in  his  ear: 

"Pay  me  those  judgments  or  I'll  strangle  you 
here  and  now!" 

With  bursting  veins  and  protruding  tongue  he 
struggled  helplessly  to  escape  as  his  assailant 
dragged  him  toward  the  safe. 

"I  mean  what  I  say!"  half  shrieked  Peters. 
"I'm  starving!  I'd  as  lief  die  one  way  as  another; 
but  before  I  die  you'll  pay  up  those  judgments — 
every  cent!" 

Rosenheim  was  on  his  knees  now  before  the  safe, 
his  eyes  starting  from  his  head. 

"Open  the  safe!"  commanded  Peters. 

Rosenheim,  the  sweat  of  death  on  his  brow, 
fumbled  with  the  combination;  the  tumbler  caught, 
the  door  swung  open.  Peters  lifted  his  captive 
enough  to  permit  him  to  reach  in  and  take  out  the 
bills. 

"Count  'em  out!"  he  ordered. 

Rosenheim  did  as  he  was  told,  shaking  with  fear* 
Peters  stuffed  the  money  into  his  pocket. 

121 


The  Confessions  of 

"Now  do  your  damdest!"  he  shouted.  "I've 
had  one  piece  of  law  business  before  I  died.  Good 
afternoon!" 

Rosenheim  crawled  back  to  his  desk,  relit  his 
cigar  and  endeavored  to  pull  himself  together.  He 
had  a  half-scared,  half-puzzled  look  on  his  face 
and  once  in  awhile  he  scratched  his  head. 

Meantime  Peters  repaired  to  the  nearest  hotel 
and  ordered  a  dinner  of  steak  and  fried  potatoes, 
washed  down  with  a  pint  of  champagne.  He  then 
purchased  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  a  box  of  collars,  a 
few  shirts,  and  a  hat.  When  he  entered  Mr. 
Banks'  office  an  hour  later  the  latter  with  difficulty 
recognized  his  visitor. 

"I  owe  you  three  hundred  dollars,  I  believe,"  re 
marked  Peters,  laying  down  the  bills. 

"Owe — me What?  You  didn't  get  that 

money  out  of  Rosenheim  ?"  stammered  Banks. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Peters  casually.  "Of 
course  I  did.  Every  cent  of  it." 

Banks  looked  at  him  in  utter  amazement.  He, 
too,  scratched  his  head. 

"Say,"  he  suddenly  exploded,  "you  must  be  quite 
a  feller!  Now,  look  here,  I've  got  a  claim  against 
the  Pennsylvania  and  Susquehanna  Terminal  Com 
pany  for  two  million  dollars  that  I  wish  you'd  come 
in  and  give  me  a  little  help  on.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

122 


Artemas  Quibble 

Peters  hesitated  and  pursed  his  lips. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  said  he  carelessly. 

You  may  have  heard  of  the  celebrated  law  firm  of 
Banks  &  Peters — who  do  a  business  of  about  four 
hundred  thousand  a  year?  Well,  that  is  Peters. 
Banks  says  he's  "the  ablest  young  lawyer  in  New 
York." 

Peters,  however,  does  not  deserve  the  same 
credit  as  another  young  fellow  of  my  acquaintance, 
since  in  Peters'  case  necessity  was  the  parent  of  his 
invention;  whereas  in  the  other  the  scheme  that 
led  to  success  was  the  offspring  of  an  ingenuity 
that  needed  no  starvation  to  stimulate  it  into 
activity. 

Baldwin  was  a  youth  of  about  thirty,  who  had 
done  pretty  well  at  the  bar  without  giving  any  evi 
dence  of  brilliancy  and  with  only  moderate  finan 
cial  success.  He  perceived  the  obvious  fact  that 
the  way  to  make  money  at  the  law  is  to  have  money 
makers  for  clients,  but  he  had  no  acquaintance 
with  financiers  and  had  no  reason  to  advance  to 
himself  why  he  should  ever  hope  to  receive  any 
business  from  such.  Reading  one  day  that  a  cer 
tain  young  attorney  he  knew  had  received  a  large 
retainer  for  bringing  an  injunction  in  an  important 
railroad  matter,  it  occurred  to  him  that,  after  all, 
it  was  merely  chance  and  nothing  else  that  had 

123 


The  Confessions  of 

sent  the  business  to  the  other  instead  of  to  himself, 
"If  I'd  only  known  Morgan  H.  Rogers  I  might  have 
had  the  job  myself,"  thought  he. 

So  he  pondered  deeply  over  how  he  could  get  to 
know  Mr.  Morgan  H.  Rogers  and  at  last  conceived 
the  idea  of  pretending  that  he  had  a  client  who — 
without  disclosing  his  name  for  the  time  being — 
desired  to  create  a  trust  for  the  benefit  of  a  charity 
in  which  the  railroad  magnate  was  much  inter 
ested.  With  this  excuse  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
securing  an  interview  and  making  an  agreeable 
impression.  The  next  step  was  more  difficult. 

Finally,  having  learned  through  a  clerk  in  the 
banker's  office  with  whom  he  had  cultivated  an  ac 
quaintance  that  Mr.  Morgan  H.  Rogers  was  going 
to  Boston  at  a  certain  hour  that  very  afternoon, 
he  donned  his  best  funeral  suit  and  boarded  the 
same  train  himself.  As  he  passed  through  the 
drawing-room  car  he  bowed  to  the  great  man,  who 
returned  his  greeting  with  the  shortness  character 
istic  of  him,  and  passed  on  to  the  smoker,  where  he 
ensconced  himself  in  a  chair  near  the  door,  deposit 
ing  on  the  seat  next  to  him  a  pile  of  magazines  and 
his  coat.  Half  an  hour  passed  and  the  car  filled 
up,  save  for  the  seat  next  the  young  lawyer.  Pres 
ently  the  bulky  form  of  Morgan  H.  Rogers  filled 
the  door-way.  He  already  had  a  black  unlit  cigar 

124 


Artemas  Quibble 

in  his  mouth  and  he  scanned  the  rows  of  seats  with 
ill-concealed  disappointment.  Then  his  eye  caught 
the  one  occupied  by  our  friend's  coat. 

"Let  me  have  this  seat!"  said  he  abruptly. 

"Oh,  how  are  you,  Mr.  Rogers!"  exclaimed  the 
young  lawyer.  "Certainly!  Let  me  give  you  a 

light." 

"Your  name's  Baldwin,  isn't  it?"  inquired  the 
banker  as  he  took  up  a  magazine.  "Saw  you 
about  that  trust  matter  last  week,  didn't  I  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Baldwin.  "Nothing  has  oc 
curred  in  connection  with  it  since  then." 

And  he  returned  to  his  parjer  without  paying 
any  further  attention  to  his  companion.  At  Bridge 
port  a  telegraph  boy  rushed  into  the  car  and  yelled : 
"Baldwin!  Mr.  Baldwin!" 

Mr.  Baldwin  held  out  his  hand,  in  which  lay  half 
a  dollar,  and  without  much  apparent  interest 
opened  the  envelope  and  scanned  its  contents. 

"H'm!"  he  remarked,  half  inwardly,  and  thrust 
the  paper  into  his  pocket. 

At  New  Haven  another  boy  boarded  the  train, 
calling  anxiously  for  Everitt  P.  Baldwin — this  time 
there  were  two  telegrams;  and  just  as  the  train 
pulled  out  a  third  arrived. 

Mr.  Baldwin  read  them  all  with  the  keenest  in 
terest  and  could  hardly  conceal  an  exclamation  of 


The  Confessions  of 

satisfaction;  but  the  magnate  gave  no  sign.  At 
New  London  there  was  another  flurry  and,  in  spite 
of  himself,  Mr.  Baldwin  slapped  his  knee  and 
muttered:  "Good  enough!" 

As  the  train  started  again  Morgan  H.  Rogers  let 
fall  his  magazine  and  growled  half-facetiously: 

"What  the  devil  are  all  those  telegrams  about  ?" 

"Just  a  little  injunction  suit,", the  young  man 
answered  modestly,  "in  which  my  firm  has  been 
quite  successful."  And,  without  giving  any  names 
— for,  indeed,  there  were  none — he  sketched  rap 
idly  a  hypothetical  situation  of  the  greatest  legal 
delicacy,  in  which  he  had  tied  up  an  imaginary 
railroad  system  with  an  injunction,  supposedly  just 
made  permanent.  Morgan  H.  Rogers  became  in 
terested  and  offered  Mr.  Baldwin  a  remarkably  big 
cigar.  He  had  been  having  a  few  troubles  of  his 
own  of  a  similar  character.  In  a  few  moments  the 
two  were  deep  in  the  problems  of  one  of  the  finan 
cier's  own  transcontinental  lines  and  a  week  later 
Baldwin  was  on  Rogers'  regular  staff  of  railroad 
attorneys. 

It  is  pleasant  to  reflect  upon  such  happy  inci 
dents  in  the  history  of  a  profession  that  probably 
offers  more  difficulties  to  the  beginner  than  any 
other.  Yet  the  very  obstacles  to  success  in  it  are 
apt  to  develop  an  intellectual  agility  and  a  flexi- 

126 


Artemas  Quibble 

bility  of  morals  which,  in  the  long  run,  may  well 
lead  not  only  to  fortune,  but  to  fame — of  one  sort 
or  another.  I  recall  an  incident  in  my  own  ca 
reer,  upon  my  ingenuity  in  which,  for  a  time,  I 
looked  back  with  considerable  professional  pride, 
until  I  found  it  a  common  practice  among  my  el 
ders  and  contemporaries  of  the  criminal  and  even 
of  the  civil  bar. 

It  so  happened  that  I  had  an  elderly  client  of 
such  an  exceedingly  irascible  disposition  that  he 
was  always  taking  offence  at  imaginary  insults  and 
was  ready  to  enter  into  litigation  of  the  fiercest 
character  at  the  slightest  excuse.  Now,  though  he 
was  often  in  the  right,  he  was  nevertheless  fre 
quently  in  the  wrong — and  equally  unreasonable 
in  either  case.  He  was  turned  over  to  me  in  de 
spair  by  another  and  older  attorney,  who  could  do 
nothing  with  him  and  wished  me  joy  in  my  under 
taking.  I  soon  found  that  the  old  gentleman's 
guiding  principle  was  "Millions  for  defence,  but 
not  one  cent  for  tribute."  In  other  words,  as 
he  always  believed  himself  to  have  been  imposed 
upon,  he  litigated  almost  every  bill  that  was  pre 
sented  to  him,  with  the  result  that  three  times  out 
of  five  judgment  was  given  against  him.  He  had 
himself  studied  for  the  bar  and  had  a  natural  fond 
ness  for  technicalities;  and  he  was  quite  ready  to 

127 


The  Confessions  of 

pay  handsomely  any  one  he  believed  to  be  zealously 
guarding  his  interests. 

He  was,  at  the  time  I  became  acquainted  with 
him,  nearly  seventy  years  of  age  and  his  chief 
diversion  was  to  sit  in  my  office  and  harangue  me 
upon  his  grievances.  Being  a  sort  of  a  sea-lawyer 
himself  he  was  forever  devising  quaint  defences  and 
strange  reasons  why  he  should  not  pay  his  creditors; 
and  he  was  ever  ready  to  spend  a  hundred  dollars 
in  lawyers'  fees  in  order  to  save  fifty.  This  is  the 
most  desirable  variety  of  client  a  lawyer  can  have. 

One  trifling  weakness,  common  to  mankind  in 
general,  gave  him  much  encouragement;  for  he 
soon  discovered  that,  rather  than  incur  the  trouble 
of  hiring  lawyers  and  going  to  court,  his  creditors 
would  usually  compound  with  him  for  consider 
ably  less  than  their  just  claims.  This  happened 
so  frequently  that  he  almost  never  paid  a  bill  in 
the  first  instance,  with  the  natural  result  that  those 
who  had  sent  him  honest  bills  before,  after  one  or 
two  experiences  with  him,  made  it  a  practice  to 
add  thirty  per  cent,  or  so  to  the  total,  in  order  that 
they  might  later  on  gracefully  reduce  their  de 
mands  without  loss.  Thus  my  client,  by  his  pee 
vishness,  actually  created  the  very  condition  re 
garding  which,  out  of  an  overactive  imagination, 
he  had  complained  originally  without  just  cause. 

128 


Artemas  Quibble 

It  so  happened  that  the  first  matter  in  which  he 
required  my  services  was  a  dispute  over  a  tailor's 
bill  that  he  regarded  as  excessive.  He  had  or 
dered  a  pair  of  trousers  without  inquiring  the  price 
and  was  shocked  to  discover  that  he  had  been 
charged  three  dollars  more  than  for  his  last  pair. 
The  tailor  explained  at  great  length  that  the  first 
had  been  summer  weight  and  that  these  were 
winter  weight;  but  to  no  purpose. 

"You  think  you  can  take  advantage  of  me  be 
cause  I'm  an  old  man!"  he  shrieked  in  his  rage. 
"But  you'll  find  out.  Just  wait  until  I  see  my 
lawyer!" 

So  down  he  came  to  my  office  and  fumed  and 
chattered  for  an  hour  or  more  about  the  extra 
three  dollars  on  his  trousers.  If  he  had  been  less 
abusive  the  tailor  might  have  overlooked  the  mat 
ter;  but  even  a  tailor  has  a  soul,  and  this  time 
the  man  swore  to  have  the  law  on  his  cantankerous 
customer. 

"Fight  to  the  last  ditch!"  shouted  the  old  man. 
"Don't  yield  an  inch!" 

A  day  or  two  later  the  tailor  served  my  client, 
whose  name  was  Wimbleton,  with  a  summons  and 
complaint;  and  I  was  forced  to  put  in  an  answer, 
in  which  I  took  issue  upon  the  reasonable  value 
of  the  trousers.  By  the  time  I  had  drawn  the 

129 


The  Confessions  of 

papers  and  listened  to  my  client's  detailed  history 
of  the  transaction,  as  well  as  his  picturesque  denun 
ciation  of  his  opponent,  I  had  already  put  in  about 
a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  my  time  without  any 
prospect  of  a  return.  I  knew  that  if  the  case  were 
tried  it  would  mean  a  day  lost  for  myself  and  a 
judgment  against  my  client.  The  old  fellow  had 
a  large  amount  of  property,  however,  and  I  was 
willing  to  take  a  loss  if  it  meant  future  business. 
Yet  the  time  involved  and  the  trifling  character  of 
the  suit  annoyed  me  and  I  resolved  to  take  it  upon 
myself  to  settle  the  matter  over  my  client's  head. 

On  my  way  home  I  stopped  in  at  the  tailor's  and 
told  him  to  take  his  three  dollars  and  discontinue 
his  action,  which  he  was  glad  enough  to  do.  The 
next  day  I  wrote  Mr.  Wimbleton  that  I  had  forced 
his  enemy  to  capitulate — horse,  foot,  and  dragoons 
— and  that  the  suit  had  been  withdrawn.  My  em 
barrassment  may  be  imagined  when  my  client  ar 
rived  at  the  office  in  a  state  of  delirious  excitement 
and  insisted  not  only  on  inviting  me  to  dinner,  but 
on  paying  me  fifty  dollars  for  services  in  giving  him 
the  satisfaction  of  beating  the  tailor.  Instantly  I  saw 
a  means  of  entirely  satisfying  the  old  man  and  earn 
ing  some  good  fees  without  the  slightest  exertion. 

The  same  method — although  for  another  pur 
pose — will  be  recalled  by  my  readers  as  having 

130 


Artemas  Quibble 

been  invoked  by  the  unjust  steward  who  called  his 
lord's  debtors  to  him  and  inquired  how  much  they 
owed.  One,  if  I  remember  correctly,  said  a  hun 
dred  measures  of  oil. 

"Take  thy  bill,"  said  the  steward,  "and  sit  down 
quickly,  and  write  fifty." 

Another,  who  confessed  to  owing  a  hundred 
measures  of  wheat,  the  steward  let  off  with  eighty. 
On  discovering  what  he  had  done  his  lord  com 
mended  him  for  having  done  wisely,  on  the  ground 
that  the  children  of  this  world  were  wiser  than  the 
children  of  light. 

Thus,  it  will  be  observed,  my  early  Biblical 
training  stood  me  in  practical  stead;  and  the  only 
difference  between  the  unjust  steward  and  myself 
lay  in  the  manner  in  which  we  were  each  eventu 
ally  treated  by  our  respective  masters.  Indeed,  I 
found  this  Scriptural  scheme  so  profitable  and  ef 
fective  that  soon  my  client  swore  I  was  the  clever 
est  lawyer  he  had  ever  employed. 

Some  one  would  commence  a  suit  against  him 
for  damages  for  breach  of  contract  amounting  to  a 
couple  of  thousand  dollars,  where  he  thought  he 
ought  to  pay  only  fifteen  hundred,  but  where  he 
really  had  no  defence.  I  would  file  an  elaborate 
answer  setting  up  all  sorts  of  defences,  move  for  an 
examination  of  the  plaintiff  and  of  his  books  and 


The  Confessions  of 

papers,  secure  a  bill  of  particulars  and  go  through 
all  sorts  of  legal  hocus-pocus  to  show  how  bitterly 
I  was  contesting  the  case  as  a  matter  of  principle. 
Before  the  action  came  to  trial,  however,  I  would 
settle  it  for  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  telling  my  client  that  we  had  brought  the 
other  side  to  his  terms,  and  charge  him  seven  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  for  my  services — thus  netting 
five  hundred  dollars  in  fees. 

Often,  when  the  amount  sued  for  was  small — say, 
fifty  or  one  hundred  dollars — and  where  my  client 
had  absolutely  declined  to  pay  anything,  I  paid  the 
claim  in  full,  simply  for  the  satisfaction  of  leading 
him  to  believe  that  he  had  been  successful  in  re 
sisting  what  he  regarded  as  an  unjust  or  excessive 
demand. 

This  went  on  for  several  years,  until,  quite  by 
chance,  one  of  his  creditors,  with  whom  I  had  set 
tled  over  his  head,  either  out  of  forgetfulness  or 
an  evil  wish  to  do  me  a  bad  turn,  wrote  him  a 
letter  thanking  him  for  his  generosity.  The  next 
day  he  appeared,  purple  with  rage,  and  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  instead  of  "commending" 
me,  denounced  me  for  a  shyster.  And  this  in  spite 
of  the  undoubted  fact  that  my  pacific  methods  had 
probably  saved  him  hundreds  of  dollars! 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Gottleib  devised  a 
132 


Artemas  Quibble 

truly  brilliant  scheme,  which  had  to  commend  it 
the  highly  desirable  quality  of  being  absolutely  safe. 
There  is  a  very  wise  provision  of  our  law  to  the 
effect  that,  where  a  wife  desires  to  bring  an  action 
against  her  husband  for  divorce  and  is  without 
means  for  the  purpose,  the  courts  will  allow  her  a 
counsel  fee  and  alimony  pendente  lite.  The  coun 
sel  fee  is  to  enable  her  to  pay  a  lawyer  and  pre 
pare  for  trial,  and  the  amount  usually  varies  from 
one  hundred  to  one  thousand  dollars. 

One  morning  my  partner  came  grinning  into  my 
office  and  showed  me  a  very  soiled  and  wrinkled 
paper. 

"What  d'ye  think  of  that  ?"  he  laughed. 

The  document,  which  turned  out  to  be  an  affi* 
davit  executed  in  Chicago,  read  as  follows? 

STATE  OF  ILLINOIS,  l 

COOK  COUNTY,  CITY  OF  CHICAGO  J  " 

LIZZIE  YARNOWSKI,  being  duly  sworn,  deposes  and 
says  that  she  is  over  twenty-one  years  of  age  and  engaged 
in  the  employment  of  making  artificial  flowers;  that  in 
the  year  1881  the  defendant  induced  her  to  leave  her 
home  in  New  York  and  to  jourriey  with  him  in  the  West 
under  a  promise  of  marriage,  representing  himself  to  be 
a  traveling  salesman  employed  by  a  manufacturer  of  soda 
fountains;  that  they  were  married  on  July  5,  1881,  in  the 
town  of  Piqua,  Ohio,  by  a  justice  of  the  peace  under  the 
names  of  Sadie  Rings  and  Joshua  Blank,  and  by  a  rabbi 
in  Chicago  on  August  17,  1881;  that  two  weeks  thereaf- 

133 


The  Confessions  of 

ter  defendant  deserted  plaintiff  and  has  never  since  con. 
tributed  toward  her  support,  and  that  she  has  since 
learned  that  the  defendant  is  a  banker  and  a  broker, 
doing  business  on  Wall  Street  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

The  affidavit  then  went  on  to  state  that  the  de 
fendant  had  given  the  plaintiff  good  grounds  for 
seeking  for  a  divorce  and  that  she  was  without 
means  to  engage  counsel  or  prepare  for  trial.  The 
contents  of  the  paper  was  skilfully  worded  so  as 
to  convey  the  impression  that  the  deponent  was  a 
woman  of  somewhat  doubtful  character  herself, 
but  that  on  the  other  hand  she  had  been  tricked  by 
the  defendant  into  a  secret — and  what  he  intended 
to  be  a  temporary — marriage.  Attached  thereto 
was  another  affidavit  from  the  justice  of  the  peace 
to  the  effect  that  on  the  date  in  question  he  had 
united  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony  a  man  and 
a  woman  who  had  given  the  names  of  Sadie  Rings 
and  Joshua  Blank. 

"Well,  Gottlieb,"  said  I,  "this  is  interesting 
reading,  whether  it  be  fact  or  fiction;  but  what  is 
its  significance  to  us  ?" 

"Why,"  answered  my  associate,  "these  are  the 
papers  I  propose  to  use  on  a  motion  for  counsel  fee 
and  alimony  in  a  divorce  action  brought  against 
Mr.  Chester  Gates,  a  broker  downtown — and,  I 
may  add,  a  very  rich  and  respectable  young  gentle- 

134 


Artemas  Quibble 

man.  Of  course,  I  have  no  personal  knowledge  of 
the  matter,  as  the  case  has  been  sent  to  us  by  one 
of  our  legal  friends  in  Chicago;  but  I  am  quite 
sure  that  the  court  will  grant  me  a  counsel  fee  in 
order  to  enable  the  poor  woman  to  prepare  her 
case  and  bring  it  to  trial." 

"But,"  I  replied,  "we  have  made  just  such  ap 
plications  a  thousand  times  before,  have  we  not?'* 

Gottlieb  gave  me  one  of  his  long,  slow  winks. 

"Not  just  like  this,"  said  he,  and  went  back  to 
his  room,  while  I  pondered  on  what  I  had  read. 

A  few  days  later  Gottlieb  served  the  complaint 
in  an  action  for  absolute  divorce  upon  Mr.  Chester 
Gates,  to  the  young  man's  great  indignation  and 
annoyance;  and  shortly  thereafter  a  very  respecta 
ble  and  prosperous  old  family  lawyer  called  upon 
us  to  explain  that  the  whole  matter  was  a  mistake 
and  that  his  client  had  never,  never  been  married, 
and  knew  no  Miss  Lizzie  Yarnowski,  either  as 
Sadie  Bings  or  under  any  other  name. 

Gottlieb  and  I  treated  him  with  the  greatest 
deference,  explaining  that  we  had  no  option  but  to 
go  on  with  the  matter,  as  we  were  only  acting  for 
our  Chicago  correspondent.  At  this  the  old  law 
yer  grew  very  indignant  and  muttered  something 
under  his  breath  about  perjury  and  blackmail,  to 
which,  however,  neither  Gottlieb  nor  I  paid  any 


The  Confessions  of 

attention.  A  week  or  so  later  we  made  our  motion 
for  alimony  and  counsel  fee  pendente  lite,  and  in 
spite  of  the  vehement  affidavit  of  Chester  Gates, 
Esquire,  that  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  the 
plaintiff  nor  been  married  to  anybody  in  his  life, 
the  court  granted  us  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
as  counsel  fee. 

This  was  made  payable  at  our  office,  as  the  aft 
torneys  for  the  plaintiff;  and  a  day  or  two  later 
Mr.  Gates  himself  called  and  asked  to  see  us.  He 
was  a  rosy-cheeked,  athletic  young  fellow,  who 
could,  I  fancy,  have  knocked  both  our  heads  to 
gether  had  he  chosen  to  do  so. 

"Good  afternoon,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  closing 
the  door  and  seating  himself  at  Gottlieb's  invita 
tion.  "This  is  a  very  interesting  experience  you 
are  putting  me  through.  I  am  made  the  defend 
ant  in  a  divorce  action  and  ordered  to  pay  you  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  on  affidavits  that  I  know 
to  be  perjured  from  start  to  finish.  Well,  if  that's 
law  I  have  nothing  to  say.  Of  course,  you  can't 
win  your  case,  because  you  can't  prove  that  I  ever 
married  anybody — which  latter  fact,  of  course,  you 
very  well  know.  I  would  never  pay  you  a  cent  to 
settle  this  or  any  other  unfounded  suit,  and  I  never 
did  anything  for  which  you  or  any  other  scoun — 
beg  pardon,  I  mean  lawyer — could  blackmail  me. 


Artemas  Quibble 

But  this  is  a  new  one  on  me.  You  have  got  a 
court  order  that  I  am  to  pay  you  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  to  bring  a  bogus  action  against  myself. 
Well,  here's  my  check  for  it.  I  congratulate  you. 
Now,  I'm  amused  to  see  what  you're  going  to  do 
next.  I  want  to  get  something  for  my  money." 

Gottlieb  took  the  check  and  rang  a  bell  for  the 
office  boy. 

"Take  this  over  to  the  bank  and  cash  it,"  he  di 
rected.  "That's  the  first  thing  I'm  going  to  do," 
turning  to  Gates.  "The  next  is  this."  He  opened 
the  top  drawer  of  his  desk  and  took  out  a  legal  paper. 
"Here,"  said  he,  "is  a  discontinuance  of  the  action, 
which  I  received  this  morning  from  Chicago.  I 
suppose  you  have  no  objection  to  having  the  matter 
disposed  of  in  that  way  ?  You'll  take  it  ?" 

Mr.  Gates  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then 
burst  out  laughing. 

"By  George!"  he  exclaimed.  "Take  it?  Of 
course  I'll  take  it.  I  have  no  particular  desire  to 
go  on  with  the  litigation,  I  assure  you.  I  fully  ex 
pected  to  be  adjudged  the  father  of  a  large  family 
of  little  Yarnowskis.  But,  now  that  the  matter  is 
settled,  would  you  mind  telling  me  who  the  lady 
really  is  ?" 

Gotdieb  looked  at  him  very  solemnly  and,  to 
my  horror,  gave  an  imperceptible  wink. 

137 


The  Confessions  of 

"All  I  can  tell  you,  sir,"  he  replied,  "is  that  her 
name  is  Lizzie  Yarnowski,  and  that  you  married 
her  under  the  name  of  Sadie  Bings  before  a  justice 
of  the  peace  at  Piqua,  Ohio." 

At  one  time  Gottlieb  and  I  represented  a  very 
objectionable  old  party  who  ran  a  scurrilous  "so 
ciety"  paper,  chiefly  for  the  opportunity  it  gave 
him  to  blackmail  people.  His  method  was  the 
very  simple  one  of  publishing  some  unfounded 
scandal  without  using  any  names,  and  then  to 
print  a  paragraph  immediately  following  it  in  which 
the  real  names  of  the  parties  appeared,  ostensibly 
with  relation  to  some  other  item  of  news: 

"It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  a  certain  young 
society  couple,  both  of  whom  have,  to  say  the 
least,  led  rather  lurid  lives,  are  no  longer  on 
good  terms  and  are  carrying  on — sub  rosa — inde 
pendent  establishments.  Mr.  prefers  the 

upper  West  Side,  while  Mrs. has  a  tidy  little 

Louis  XVI  flat  on  Eleventh  Street.  Incidental 
ly  the  family  mansion  remains  at  Fifth 

Avenue. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kopeck  Louis  d'Or  Jones  are 
not  going  to  Newport  this  summer.  There  is  a  per 
sistent  rumor  that  Mrs.  Jones  will  remain  with  her 
mother  on  the  Hudson,  while  her  husband's  plans 
are  quite  indefinite." 

'3* 


Artemas  Quibble 

In  point  of  fact  it  was  Gottlieb  who  had  invented 
this  neat  method  of  publishing  scandal  without  any 
of  the  usual  attendant  risks.  Generally  what  would 
happen  would  be  that  the  day  after  the  issuing  of 
the  number  in  which  the  objectionable  article  had 
appeared,  Mr.  Kopeck  Louis  d'Or  Jones  would  call, 
up  the  white-haired  editor  of  Social  Sifting  on  the 
telephone  and  tell  him  that  he  proposed  to  sue  him 
for  libel  unless  he  printed  an  immediate  retraction. 
Our  client  would  thereupon  refer  him  to  Gottlieb, 
who  would  explain  to  Mr.  Jones  that  the  libel  in 
question  had  no  reference  to  him  whatsoever;  that 
he  could  hardly  expect  favorable  items  to  appear 
about  him  unless  he  took  a  financial  interest  in  the 
paper;  and  end  by  offering  to  negotiate  a  purchase 
for  him  of  some  of  the  stock.  In  many  instances 
the  injured  parties  would  instantly  take  this  means 
of  insuring  that  no  further  publications  of  such  a 
character  should  appear.  The  stock  usually  cost 
about  ten  thousand  dollars,  which  went  into  the 
pocket  of  the  "General,"  as  he  was  called;  and 
from  that  time  on  none  but  the  most  pleasing  re 
flections  could  be  found  in  the  columns  of  his  paper 
in  regard  to  its  new  stockholder. 

Unfortunately  for  all  parties,  however,  the  "Gen 
eral"  took  exception  to  the  size  of  one  of  our  bills 
we  parted  with  mutual  recriminations,  al- 

139 


The  Confessions  of 

though  he  had  paid  us  many  thousands  of  dollars 
in  fees  and  we  had  saved  him  many  more  in  judg 
ments.  He  still  owed  us  a  large  sum  of  money,  but 
Gottlieb  had  tied  up  his  property  in  such  a  fashion 
that  the  old  fellow  was  judgment-proof.  He  was 
thus  able  to  snap  his  fingers  in  our  faces,  a  fact 
that  naturally  intensified  our  hard  feelings  against 
him.  We  cherished  our  anger  until  an  appropri 
ate  occasion  should  present  itself  for  getting  even 
with  him,  which  occurred  sooner  than  any  of  us, 
least  of  all  the  "General/*  expected. 

It  so  happened  that  one  of  the  victims,  having 
failed  to  "come  across"  substantially  enough,  dis 
covered  very  shortly  another  libelous  paragraph, 
which  reflected  very  seriously  upon  his  young  and 
attractive  wife;  and  as  it  was  pretty  generally 
known  at  that  time  that  the  "General"  and  our 
selves  had  parted  company,  the  husband  forthwith 
came  to  us  for  advice. 

"Of  course,"  said  he  ruefully,  "I  can't  thrash  a 
white-haired  villain  who  is  old  enough  to  be  my 
grandfather,  even  if  I  could  get  to  him,  which  is 
unlikely.  You  know  he  has  an  inner  office  'way 
off  from  the  rest  and  sneaks  in  and  out,  up  and 
down  the  back  stairs.  A  suit  for  libel  wouldn't  do 
any  good  and  the  publicity  would  hurt  more  than 
the  satisfaction  I  might  get  out  of  a  verdict.  But 

140 


Artemas  Quibble 

vengeance  I'll  have — at  any  cost.  How  can  I  get 
it?" 

Gottlieb  pondered  the  matter  for  several  days 
and  at  last  sent  for  his  new  client,  at  the  same  time 
making  an  appointment  at  our  office  with  a  well- 
known  feather-weight  prize-fighter. 

"  If  you  will  leave  this  matter  to  me  I'll  guar 
antee — for  a  thousand  dollars — that  the  'General* 
shall  receive  as  severe  a  pounding  as  his  old  carcass 
can  stand." 

The  client  joyfully  wrote  out  a  check  to  our  order 
and  an  hour  later  Hennessey,  the  celebrated  ban 
tam,  arrayed  in  the  uniform  of  an  overgrown  mes 
senger  boy,  called  with  a  letter  at  the  "General's" 
office  and  asked  to  see  him.  He  had,  he  insisted, 
orders  to  deliver  the  letter  into  nobody's  hands  but 
those  of  the  "General"  himself,  and  on  this  pre 
text  in  due  course  found  himself,  after  being  led 
through  a  labyrinth  of  passages  and  stairs,  in  die 
presence  of  our  ex-client. 

"Are  you  General ?"  he  inquired. 

"That's  my  name,"  answered  the  "General." 

"  I've  got  a  letter  for  yous,"  continued  the  ban 
tam,  fumbling  in  his  cap  and  producing  two  letters, 
one  of  which  he  handed  over. 

The  "General"  took  it  and  his  eye  glinted,  for 
he  perceived  that  it  was  addressed  to  a  very  well- 
Hi 


The  Confessions  of 

known  member  of  society  whose  escapades  were 
notorious.  Quickly  he  ran  his  penknife  through 
the  tongue  of  the  envelope. 

"Hold  on,  there!"  suddenly  cried  Hennessey. 
"I've  give  yous  the  wrong  letter.  Here's  yourn. 
That  one  is  for  Mr. .  Gimme  it  back!" 

"One  moment,  my  boy!"  replied  the  "General," 
hastily  tearing  open  the  envelope.  "Just  one  mo 


ment." 


"  Don't  you  take  out  dat  letter !  It  ain't  fer  yous ! " 
expostulated  the  messenger.  "  Here's  your  letter." 

But  the  "General,"  with  watering  mouth,  was 
already  feverishly  devouring  a  violet-colored  note 
beginning,  "Darling  Guy,"  his  bulbous  nose  close 
to  the  paper  and  scenting  scandal  in  every  line — 
that  is,  he  devoured  it  until,  quite  unexpectedly,  the 
bantam  squared  off  and  proceeded  to  hand  him  a 
few" upper  cuts,"  "hooks,"  and  straight  leads  from 
the  shoulder,  until  the  scandalmonger  howled  for 
mercy.  But  the  bantam  had  his  instructions. 

"No!"  says  he.  Bing!  " I'll  teach  you  to  read 
other  people's  letters!"  Bing!  "I'll  show  yous 
what  yous'll  get  if  yous  violates  de  United  States 

mail— see  ?"    Bing!  " Read  Mr. 's  letter,  will 

yous?"  Bing!  "Not  wit' me  here— see?"  Bing! 
Bing!  "You  white-haired  old  son  of  a  printing- 
press!" 

142 


Artemas  Quibble 

Hennessey's  description,  on  his  return  to  the 
office,  of  the  " General's"  appearance  at  the  con 
clusion  of  his  drubbing  was  eminently  satisfac 
tory;  and  he  forthwith  exchanged  his  messenger's 
uniform  for  his  Broadway  regalia  and  a  crisp  one- 
hundred-dollar  bill.  That  is  the  only  time,  so  far 
as  I  have  ever  learned,  that  the  "General"  ever  got 
his  real  deserts;  but  I  am  glad  that  he  did, for  once. 
And  the  sight  of  his  red  nose — somehow  it  looks 
redder  now  than  it  used  to — invariably  fills  me  with 
satisfaction. 

Quite  naturally  our  firm  attracted  a  number  of 
strange  wastrels  in  the  way  of  clients,  all  of  whom 
were  picturesque  and  many  of  them  profitable. 
Among  these  was  a  gentleman  known  as  the  "  Hu 
man  Dog,"  who  frequented  the  main  thorough 
fares  during  the  crowded  hours  and  simulated  the 
performances  of  a  starving  animal  with  a  verisi 
militude  that  I  believe  to  have  been  unsurpassed  in 
the  annals  of  beggary.  He  would  go  on  all  fours 
snuffling  along  the  gutters  for  food  and  when  he 
came  to  a  morsel  of  offal  he  would  fall  upon  it  and 
devour  it  ravenously.  If  he  found  nothing  he 
would  whine  and  sit  on  his  hind  legs — so  to  speak 
— on  the  curb,  with  an  imploring  look  on  his  hairy 
face.  If  a  police  officer  approached  the  "  Human 
Dog"  would  immediately  roll  over  on  his  back, 

H3 


The  Confessions  of 

with  his  legs  in  the  air,  and  yelp  piteously;  in  fact, 
he  combined  die  "lay"  of  insanity  with  that  of 
starvation  in  a  most  ingenious  and  skilful  manner. 
He  was  a  familiar  sight  and  a  bugbear  to  the  police, 
who  were  constantly  arresting  him;  but,  as  he 
never  asked  for  money,  they  had  great  difficulty  in 
doing  anything  with  him.  Usually  the  magistrate 
sent  him  to  the  "Island,"  for  thirty  days  and  then 
Gottlieb  would  get  him  out  on  a  writ  of  habeas 
corpus.  Some  of  these  writs  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  bar  and  several  appear  in  the  reports.  I  am 
under  the  impression  that  we  secured  his  release 
some  twenty-nine  separate  times.  At  last  he  died 
in  a  fit  of  apoplexy  caused  by  overeating;  and 
when  we  administered  his  estate  we  found  that 
he  had  already  laid  by,  in  a  comparatively  brief 
career,  the  very  creditable  sum  of  forty-one  thou 
sand  dollars. 

The  "Human  Dog"  was  but  a  clever  variation 
of  the  "Crust-Thrower" — the  beggar  who  tosses  a 
dirty  crust  of  bread  into  the  gutter  when  no  one  is 
looking  and  then  falls  upon  it  with  a  cry  of  fierce 
joy.  These  "crust-throwers"  have  plied  their 
trade  for  over  six  hundred  years  and  were  known 
in  England  and  Flanders  long  before  the  discovery 
of  America.  Gottlieb  was  very  shrewd  at  devising 
schemes  that  came  just  within  the  law  and  used  to 

144 


Artemas  Quibble 

amuse  himself  by  so  doing  in  his  leisure  moments. 
One  of  the  best — the  idea  for  which  he  sold  for 
three  hundred  dollars  and  which  is  still  being  used 
in  New  York,  Chicago,  and  elsewhere — is  the  fol 
lowing: 

An  old  man,  with  a  square  of  plate  glass  in  a 
newspaper  and  a  bundle  of  glass-cutter's  tools  by 
his  side  is  seen  sitting  dejectedly  on  a  curb  with 
his  head  in  his  hands.  He  has  no  coat  and  the  icy 
wind  blows  through  his  straggling  locks  of  gray 
hair — a  pathetic  picture.  He  seems  utterly  dis 
couraged,  but  no  word  of  complaint  passes  his 
lips.  Presently  a  well-dressed  woman  approaches 
and  her  pity  is  instantly  aroused.  She  accosts  him, 
and  the  aged  one  informs  her  in  a  faint  voice  that 
he  works  in  Harlem  and  has  been  sent  by  his  boss 
to  set  a  pane  of  glass  on  Varick  Street;  but,  not 
knowing  exactly  where  Varick  Street  is,  he  has  got 
off  the  elevated  at  Fifty-ninth  Street  and  finds  that 
he  is  still  several  miles  from  his  destination.  What 
woman,  unless  she  had  a  heart  of  granite,  would 
not  be  moved  by  such  a  tale!  She  opens  her  purse 
and  pours  its  contents  into  his  lap;  for  it  is  a  psy 
chological  truth  that,  if  you  can  once  get  a  woman 
up  to  the  point  of  giving  anything,  she  will  give  all 
that  she  has.  How  often  have  I  seen  these  old 
men — the  children  of  Gottlieb's  brain — sitting  pa- 

US 


The  Confessions  of 

tiently  and  silently  on  the  streets!  And  how  often 
have  they  paid  us  handsome  fees  to  get  them  out 
of  the  "jug." 

In  this  catalogue  of  clients  I  must  not  forget 
"  Banana  Anna,"  who  recently,  I  am  sad  to  say, 
met  her  Waterloo.  Anna  was  a  lady  so  peculiarly 
gifted  by  the  Almighty  that  she  was  able  at  will 
to  simulate  a  very  severe  physical  mishap.  I  shall 
not  describe  with  any  greater  degree  of  particu 
larity  what  her  precise  affliction  was,  save  to  say 
that  if  genuine  it  would  have  entitled  her  to  the 
sympathy  and  generosity  of  mankind.  It  was  the 
kind  of  thing  that  might  easily  result  from  a  fall; 
but  which,  in  fact,  under  ordinary  circumstances 
gave  her  no  inconvenience  whatever. 

Anna  would  conceal  a  bit  of  banana  peel  in  her 
muff  and,  dropping  it  upon  a  station  platform, 
would  put  her  heel  upon  it  and  fall  prostrate,  ut 
tering  a  groan  of  pain.  The  guard  would  come 
hastily  to  her  assistance  and  find,  to  his  horror,  a 
woman  with  every  mark  of  respectability  suffering 
terrible  agony  from  a  condition  obviously  the  re 
sult  of  a  fall  caused  by  a  bit  of  banana  skin  care 
lessly  left  lying  upon  the  premises.  An  ambulance 
would  be  sumrnond,  but  she  would  insist  upon  being 
taken  to  her  own  home — an  imposing  mansion — 
and  calling  her  own  physician.  In  due  course  the 

146 


Artemas  Quibble 

railroad  would  send  its  doctor,  who  would  report 
that  her  condition  was  serious;  and,  as  the  leaving 
of  banana  peel  upon  a  public  platform  is  in  its  very 
nature  "negligent,"  the  company's  lawyers  would 
recommend  settlement.  Thus  "Banana  Anna" 
was  able  to  live  in  comfort  if  not  in  luxury;  and 
an  infirmity  that  might  under  other  circumstances 
have  been  a  curse  became,  in  fact,  a  blessing.  Of 
course  she  took  a  new  name  and  hired — tempo 
rarily — a  new  residence  for  each  accident;  but,  as 
she  moved  from  city  to  city,  she  was  able  to  keep 
up  the  same  old  ruse  for  years. 

Perhaps  our  most  interesting  client  was  the  one 
who  made  his  living  by  supplying  "to  the  trade"  all 
kinds  of  corporate  bonds  and  certificates  of  stock. 
Some  of  these  bonds  had  originally  been  issued  by 
corporations  in  good  standing,  but  had  been  ex 
changed,  cancelled,  outlawed,  or  in  some  other  way 
had  become  valueless.  How  our  client  secured 
them  I  never  discovered.  He  also  dealt  in  the  re 
pudiated  bonds  of  Southern  cities  and  States, 
which  can  be  purchased  for  practically  nothing 
almost  anywhere. 

His  principal  line  of  goods,  however,  was  the 
bonds  of  companies  that  he  incorporated  himself 
and  disposed  of  at  cut  rates  to  a  clientele  all  his 
own.  4Fhese  companies  all  bore  impressive  names, 

H7 


The  Confessions  of 

such  as  the  Tennessee  Gas,  Heat,  and  Power  Com 
pany,  the  Mercedes-Panard-Charon  Motor  Ve 
hicle  Supply  Company,  the  Nevada  Coal,  Coke, 
Iron,  and  Bi-product  Company,  the  Chicago  Bank 
ing  and  Securities  Company,  the  Farmers'  Loan 
and  Credit  Company,  the  Southern  Georgia  Land 
and  Fruit  Company,  and  so  on.  He  had  an  im 
pressive  office  in  a  marble-fronted  building  on  Wall 
Street,  doors  covered  with  green  baize  inside  and 
gold  lettering  outside,  and  he  wore  a  tall  hat  and 
patent-leather  shoes.  He  also  had  a  force  of  sev 
eral  young  lady  stenographers  and  clerks,  who 
acted  as  the  officers  and  directors  of  his  various 
concerns,  all  of  which  were  legally  incorporated 
under  the  laws  of  West  Virginia  and  New  Jersey. 
His  clients  were  the  gilt-edged  "con"  men  of  Wall 
and  Nassau  Streets,  who,  when  they  needed  them, 
could  purchase  a  couple  of  hundred  engraved  one- 
thousand-dollar  bonds  of  imposing  appearance,  in 
a  real  corporation,  for  a  few  hundred  dollars  in 
cash. 

Our  client  did  not  act  as  an  officer  of  these  him 
self,  but  merely  took  a  power  of  attorney  from  the 
president,  secretary,  and  treasurer,  authorizing 
him  to  sign  their  names  to  these  bond  issues.  Yet 
no  one  ever  saw  these  officers,  all  of  whom  had 
names  connotative  of  wealth  and  financial  respon- 

148 


Artemas  Quibble 

sibility.  The  Gates,  Morgan,  Rogers,  and  othej? 
families  multiplied  and  brought  forth  at  the  mere 
wave  of  his  pen.  If  you  wished  a  half-million 
bond  issue  you  simply  called  him  up  on  the  tele 
phone  and  some  "Light  and  Power  Company" 
would  hold  a  directors'  meeting  and  vote  a  fifty- 
year  debenture  gold  seven-per-cent  security  that 
you  could  peddle  around  at  fifty-eight  and  one- 
eighth  to  unsuspecting  investors,  so  as  to  net  them 
merely  thirteen  per  cent,  on  their  money — when 
they  got  it.  You  could  buy  a  million  in  these 
bonds  for  about  three  hundred  and  seventy-five 
dollars  and  fifty  cents;  but  they  were  real  bonds 
in  real  companies  and  legally  issued  against  some 
form  of  property,  even  if  it  had  no  market  value. 
Sometimes,  I  am  told,  these  securities  paid  interest 
for  a  year  or  so,  and  the  suckers  got  their  friends 
in  while  there  were  a  few  left — bonds,  I  mean — 
there  are  always  suckers. 

Like  all  egotists,  our  client  became  careless  as 
time  went  on  and  one  day  took  it  upon  himself  to 
issue  a  few  hundred  bonds  in  a  company  without 
holding  a  directors'  meeting.  He  should  not  be 
severely  blamed  for  neglecting  a  detail  of  this  sort 
when  he  was  so  well  aware  of  its  purely  formal  if 
not  farcical  character.  Still,  it  was  one  of  those 
little  slips  that  even  the  most  careful  of  us  will 

149 


Artemas  Quibble 

sometimes  make,  and  the  district-attorney  took  an 
underhand  advantage  of  our  friend  and  indicted 
him  for  forging  the  names  of  the  officers  of  the 
company  to  an  unauthorized  issue  of  bonds. 
Gottlieb  and  I  had,  perforce,  to  defend  him;  but, 
unfortunately,  his  real  defence  would  have  been 
even  worse  than  the  charge.  He  could  not  say 
that  there  was  no  real  company  and  that  there 
were  no  such  human  beings  as  the  persons  whose 
names  he  had  written  across  the  back  of  the  bonds 
in  question. 

Poor  fellow!  He  was  an  absolutely  innocent 
man.  Yet  he  went  to  Sing  Sing  for  seven  years 
for  committing  no  crime  at  all.  How  could  he 
forge  the  names  of  persons  who  did  not  exist? 
However,  he  had  invented  these  financial  Franken- 
steins  and  they  finally  overwhelmed  him.  Some 
where  lying  around  I  have  my  share  of  the  fee  in 
this  case — I  forget  just  where.  It  consists  of 
fourteen  millions  in  the  securities  of  the  National 
Mortgage  and  Security  Company  of  Jampole, 
Mississippi. 


150 


CHAPTER  VII 

fear  that  most  people  have  of  the  criminal 
JL  law  has  its  origin  in  their  ignorance  of  it. 
They  are,  luckily,  most  of  them  unfamiliar  with 
bailiffs  and  constables,  except  at  a  distance.  The 
gruff  voice  of  authority  has  echoed  but  dimly  for 
them.  They  have  heard  of  the  "third  degree," 
"the  cooler,"  "the  sweat-box,"  and  "the  brace 
lets,"  yet  they  have  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  sta 
tion-house;  and  their  knowledge  of  jails,  if  they 
have  any  at  all,  is  derived  from  reading  in  their 
childhood  of  the  miraculous  escapes  of  Baron 
Trenck  or  the  Fall  of  the  Bastile.  They  picture 
officers  of  the  law  as  human  bulldogs,  with  under 
shot,  foam-dripping  jaws  and  bloodshot  eyes.  The 
bourne — from  which  so  many  travellers  never  re 
turn — bounded  by  the  criminal  statutes,  is  a  terra 
incognita  to  the  average  citizen.  A  bailiff  with  a 
warrant  for  his  arrest  would  cause  his  instant  col 
lapse  and  a  message  that  "all  was  discovered" 


The  Confessions  of 

wemld — exactly  as  in  the  popular  saw — lead  him 
to  flee  at  once. 

Upon  this  dread  of  the  unknown  the  criminal  at 
torney  plays  whenever  possible.  It  is  his  strong 
est  asset,  his  stock  in  trade.  The  civil  lawyer, 
vaguely  believing  that  there  must  be  a  criminal  law 
to  cover  every  obvious  wrong,  retains  him  to  put 
the  screws  on  the  evil-doer  and  bring  him  to  terms. 
The  man  who  has  done  a  dirty  business  trick — in 
reality  a  hundred  miles  from  being  a  crime — en 
gages  the  shyster  to  keep  him  out  of  jail.  The 
practical  weapon  of  the  criminal  lawyer  is  the  war 
rant  of  arrest.  Just  as  at  civil  law  any  one  can 
bring  a  groundless  suit  and  subject  his  enemy  to 
much  annoyance  and  expense,  so  almost  anybody 
can  get  almost  anybody  else  arrested.  Of  course 
if  there  is  no  justification  for  it  a  suit  for  malicious 
prosecution  and  false  arrest  may  result;  but  most 
persons  who  resort  to  such  tactics  are  "judgment 
proof"  and  the  civil  law  has  no  terrors  for  them  at 
all.  At  least  fifty  persons  out  of  every  hundred 
would  gladly  pay  an  unrighteous  claim  rather  than 
be  subjected  to  the  humiliation  of  arrest,  even  if 
their  confinement  were  of  the  most  temporary 
character. 

In  New  York  the  right  of  having  the  defendant 
arrested  in  certain  classes  of  civil  cases  is  a  matter 

152 


Artemas  Quibble 

of  statute.  It  is  a  preliminary  remedy  not  half  as 
much  availed  of  as  it  might  be.  The  young  lady 
who  brings  a  breach-of-promise  action  against  her 
faithless  follower  has  the  right  to  put  him  under 
arrest  and  make  him  give  bail;  and  the  young  gen 
tleman  who  would  laugh  ordinarily  at  the  mere 
service  of  papers  may  well  settle  her  claim  if  a 
sheriff  whispers  in  his  ear  that  he  has  a  warrant 
for  his  person. 

In  the  early  days,  before  Gottlieb  and  I  practised 
at  the  criminal  bar,  a  judgment  creditor  could  ar 
rest  and  lock  up  his  delinquent  debtor.  This  was 
A  most  ancient  and  honorable  form  of  redress;  and 
the  reader  has  undoubtedly  read  dozens  of  novels 
in  which  some  of  the  scenes  are  laid  in  "Fleet 
Street."  This  locking  up  of  people  who  owed  other 
people  money  but  could  not  meet  their  just  obliga 
tions  was  sanctified  by  tradition  and  deeply  rooted 
in  our  jurisprudence;  but  the  law  governing  the 
procedure  in  such  cases  was  highly  technical  and 
the  wind  of  destiny  was  somewhat  tempered  to  the 
shorn  lamb  of  the  creditor.  Thus,  a  warrant  for 
the  arrest  of  a  debtor  could  not  be  executed  on  the 
Sabbath  and,  of  course,  had  no  value  outside  of  the 
State.  Accordingly  the  neighboring  cities  of  New 
Jersey  harbored  thousands  of  bankrupt  New 
Yorkers  who  could  not  pay  their  bills  and  suffered 

153 


The  Confessions  of 

a  voluntary  exile  until  they  should  be  in  funds 
again.  Indeed,  there  were  certain  hostelries  en 
tirely  given  over  to  their  accommodation.  The 
man  who  had  defied  his  creditors  simply  converted 
his  available  property  into  ready  cash  and  slipped 
across  the  river  to  Jersey  City  or  Hoboken,  where 
he  remained  six  days  in  every  week  and  returned 
to  the  bosom  of  his  adoring  family  on  the  seventh. 

Later  on  civil  orders  of  arrest  were  limited  by 
statute  to  certain  classes  of  cases,  such  as,  for  in 
stance,  the  conversion  of  money. 

Among  our  clients  there  was  a  certain  exceed 
ingly  attractive  young  lady  of  French  extraction 
named  Mademoiselle  Valerie  Carrell,  who  was  a 
popular  favorite  upon  the  light-opera  stage  when 
light  opera  was  in  swaddling-clothes.  Our  fair 
client,  like  many  another  histrionic  genius,  had 
more  charm  than  business  ability  and  was  per 
suaded  by  an  unscrupulous  manager  to  intrust  to 
him  a  large  sum  of  money  for  investment  in  his  vari 
ous  enterprises.  Time  went  on,  and,  although  he 
seemed  to  be  successful  in  his  ventures,  he  insisted 
that  he  had  no  money  and  was  absolutely  unable  to 
repay  her.  In  utter  desperation  she  came  to  Gott 
lieb  and  myself  for  assistance  and  we  speedily  se 
cured  judgment  for  the  full  amount — fifteen  thou 
sand  dollars — after  a  hotly  contested  trial,  in  which 


Artemas  Quibble 

the  defendant  perjured  himself  very  unlike  a  gentle 
man.  The  only  result  was  that  Mr.  Brown,  the 
manager,  gayly  offered  to  settle  for  fifteen  hundred, 
and,  on  receiving  a  curt  refusal,  transferred  his 
residence  to  Hoboken,  from  which  place  he  man 
aged  his  business  and  paid  furtive  visits  to  the  me 
tropolis  in  the  night-time.  On  Sundays,  however, 
he  always  appeared  in  full  regalia  on  Broadway 
and  could  invariably  be  seen  entertaining  his  friends 
lavishly  in  the  restaurants. 

Gottlieb  suffered  this  course  of  conduct  to  be 
come  a  habit  and  then  informed  me  that  he  pro 
posed  to  collect  the  full  amount  of  Mademoiselle 
Carrell's  judgment  upon  the  following  Monday. 
I  expressed  some  incredulity  at  the  idea,  but  later 
events  proved  that  my  partner  was  well  justified 
in  his  prophecy.  We  had  long  before  procured  a 
warrant  for  Brown's  arrest  and  the  only  difficulty 
lay  in  executing  it  upon  a  week-day.  Sunday  came 
and  as  usual  Brother  Brown,  with  his  customary 
bravado,  made  his  appearance  in  the  city.  That 
evening  Gottlieb  invited  me  to  dine  with  him  at 
the  resort  ordinarily  frequented  by  our  quarry. 
True  to  his  invariable  custom,  Brown  turned  up 
there  with  a  party  of  his  cronies  and  spent  the  even 
ing  in  merry  feasting,  presumably  upon  the  money 
of  our  client.  It  was  a  clear  moonlight  night  and 

155 


The  Confessions  of 

when  the  glowworm  showed  the  matin  to  be  near — 
or,  more  correctly,  when  it  neared  twelve  o'clock — 
Brown  beckoned  to  the  waiter,  paid  his  bill  out  of  a 
fat  roll  of  greenbacks,  winked  good-naturedly  at 
us,  and  bade  his  friends  good-night.  A  moment  or 
two  later  Gottlieb  whispered  to  me  to  follow  him 
and  we  stepped  forth  upon  the  street.  Brown  was 
strolling  quietly  down  Broadway  toward  Twenty- 
third  Street.  A  short  distance  behind  followed  a 
thick-set  man  with  a  square-cut  jaw  whom  I  had 
frequently  noticed  in  Gottlieb's  office. 

On  the  corner  of  the  cross-town  thoroughfare 
Brown  paused,  looked  first  at  the  moon  and  then  at 
his  watch,  and  proceeded  on  his  constitutional  tow 
ard  the  ferry.  The  street,  save  for  a  distant  and 
presumably  somnolent  policeman,  was  deserted. 
The  thick-set  man  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the 
way,  quickened  his  steps,  overtook  and  passed 
Brown,  recrossed  and  sauntered  toward  him.  A 
moment  later  there  was  a  collision  between  them, 
voices  were  raised  in  angry  altercation  and  presently 
Brown  was  rolling  undignifiedly  on  the  pavement, 
his  calls  for  the  police  rending  the  stillness  of  the 
night.  The  officer  hastily  approached,  whistling 
wildly  for  aid.  Gottlieb  and  I  took  refuge  in  an 
adjacent  doorway.  Abruptly,  however,  Brown's 
outcries  ceased.  It  is  probable  that  a  sudden  vision 


Artemas  Quibble 

of  the  consequences  of  an  appeal  to  police  protection 
came  to  him  as  he  lay  like  an  overturned  June-bug 
upon  the  sidewalk.  But  the  law  had  been  invoked. 
The  car  of  Juggernaut  had  started  upon  its  course. 

"What's  the  trouble  here  ?"  cried  the  policeman 
as  he  arrived  panting  upon  the  scene. 

"This  fellow  here  assaulted  me!"  instantly  an 
swered  the  man  with  the  bulldog  jaw. 

"  It's  a  lie!"  bellowed  Brown,  climbing  to  his  feet. 

"Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say  ?"  inquired  the 
officer. 

Brown  hesitated.  If  he  made  a  counter  charge 
he  realized  that  he  would  have  to  go  to  the  police 
station  to  make  the  complaint.  This  would  keep 
him  in  the  city  until  after  midnight. 

"Well  ?"  continued  the  policeman. 

Still  Brown  paused,  rapidly  taking  account  of 
stock.  If  he  did  not  deny  the  charge  in  terms  he 
would  be  locked  up,  which  was  just  as  bad.  But 
the  bull-jawed  chap  spoke  first. 

"I  want  this  man  arrested!"  he  insisted.  "He 
deliberately  attacked  me!" 

"  I  did  no  such  thing ! "  shouted  Brown.  "  He  came 
at  me  without  provocation  and  knocked  me  down." 

"  It  took  you  long  enough  to  say  so,"  commented 
the  officer.  "I'll  have  to  take  you  along  to  the 
house.  Come  on,  both  of  you." 

Grasping  Brown  by  the  arm,  he  marched  him 

157 


The  Confessions  of 

down  the  street.  Suddenly  the  unfortunate  man 
ager  began  to  pour  forth  a  long  explanation,  quite 
incoherent  so  far  as  the  policeman  was  concerned. 
He  was  the  victim  of  a  frame-up — it  was  a  job  to 
get  him  arrested.  The  officer  remarked  unsym- 
pathetically  that  he  had  heard  that  sort  of  thing 
many  times  before.  Gottlieb  and  I  skulked  in  the 
rear.  When  the  police  station  was  at  last  reached 
the  thick-set  man  made  a  charge  of  assault  against 
the  manager  and  Brown  was  compelled  perforce 
to  make  a  smiliar  charge  against  his  adversary. 
Then  both  were  locked  up  to  await  a  hearing  the 
next  morning  in  the  magistrate's  court,  when,  after 
a  prolonged  examination,  Brown  was  discharged 
with  an  admonition  against  a  too  free  indulgence 
in  alcoholic  liquors. 

"Don't  be  hard  on  him,  judge,"  said  the  bull- 
jawed  man.  "I  had  no  trouble  in  defending  my 
self.  I  think  he  has  had  lesson  enough." 

Much  the  worse  for  wear,  Mr.  Brown  passed  out 
of  the  court-room,  only  to  be  confronted  on  the  side 
walk  by  a  marshal  with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest.  It 
was  Monday  morning.  His  period  of  immunity 
was  over.  His  eye  caught  Gottlieb  and  myself 
standing  on  the  corner. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  exclaimed  ruefully,  "I'm 
caught.  How  much  is  it  going  to  cost?" 

"Fifteen  thousand  dollars,"  answered  Gottlieb, 

158 


He  lay  like  an  overturned  June-bug  upon  the  sidewalk 


Artemas  Quibble 

adding,  after  a  moment's  pause — "and  disburse 


ments." 


I  need  hardly  add  that  Mr.  Brown  lost  no  time 
in  raising  the  necessary  ransom  and  within  the  hour 
had  paid  his  judgment  in  full  and  secured  his  dis 
charge.  The  days  are  long  since  over,  however, 
when  judgment  debtors  had  anything  to  fear;  and 
now  a  beneficent  bankruptcy  law,  merely  for  the 
asking,  washes  all  their  debts  away.  But  the 
power  to  secure  another's  arrest  is  even  more  easily 
available  now  than  in  the  days  of  my  early  practice 
owing  to  the  great  number  of  new  crimes  created 
by  the  statutes. 

One  of  the  most  ingenious  devices  for  extorting 
money  that  ever  came  to  my  attention  was  invented 
by  a  client  of  mine  named  Levine — a  poor  sort  of 
character,  to  be  sure,  but  cleverer  than  many  a  bet 
ter  man.  In  detail  his  method  was  as  follows:  He 
first  bought  at  wholesale  a  large  quantity  of  cheap 
watches  covered  with  gold  plate.  To  the  inex 
perienced  they  looked  as  if  they  might  possibly  be 
worth  forty  or  fifty  dollars  apiece.  They  cost 
Levine  about  two  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents 
each.  His  next  step  was  to  select  some  small  shop 
belonging  to  a  plumber,  grocer,  or  electrician  which 
was  ordinarily  left  in  charge  of  a  clerk  while  the 
owner  was  out  attending  to  his  work  or  securing 

159 


The  Confessions  of 

orders.  Levine  would  find  some  excuse  for  enter 
ing  the  shop,  engage  the  clerk  in  conversation,  and 
having  secured  his  attention  would  produce  one 
of  his  watches  and  extol  its  merits  at  length,  ex 
plaining  what  a  great  bargain  it  was  and  how — 
only  owing  to  an  exceptional  concatenation  of  cir 
cumstances — he  was  able  to  offer  it  for  the  ridicu 
lously  low  figure  of  thirty  dollars. 

Now  it  never  made  any  difference  to  Levine 
whether  the  clerk  wanted  the  watch  or  not.  His 
procedure  remained  the  same  in  all  cases.  He 
would  first  offer  to  let  the  fellow  have  it  by  paying 
one  dollar  a  week  on  the  instalment  plan.  If  this 
did  not  appeal  to  the  clerk  Levine  would  persuade 
him  to  keep  it  for  a  short  time  on  approval,  pay 
ing  down  a  dollar  "as  security."  Almost  all  of 
his  victims  would  agree  to  this  if  only  to  be  rid  of 
him.  In  default  of  aught  else  he  would  lay  the 
watch  on  the  counter  and  run  away. 

Nothing  more  would  occur  for  a  couple  of  weeks, 
during  which  the  clerk  would  hold  the  watch  pend 
ing  its  owner's  return,  little  suspecting  what  was 
going  on  meantime.  Levine,  having  "landed"  his 
watch,  immediately  swore  to  a  verified  complaint 
in  an  action  at  law  for  "goods  sold  and  delivered," 
setting  forth  that  on  the  date  in  question  he  had 
sold — not  to  the  clerk,  but  to  his  employer — a  gold 

1 60 


Artemas  Quibble 

watch  for  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars,  which  the  latter 
had  then  and  there  promised  to  pay  for  at  once. 
The  complaint  further  recited  that  the  money  had 
been  duly  demanded  and  payment  refused,  and 
asked  judgment  for  fifty  dollars  and  the  costs  and 
disbursements  of  the  action.  Levine  would  then 
procure  from  some  irresponsible  person  an  affida 
vit  that  the  latter  had  personally  served  a  copy  of 
the  complaint  in  question,  together  with  a  sum 
mons,  upon  the  defendant,  and  place  the  case  on 
the  calendar  for  trial.  Of  course  no  papers  were 
in  fact  served  on  anybody  and  Levine  would  in  due 
course  secure  judgment  by  default  for  sixty-odd 
dollars.  Armed  with  a  certified  copy  of  the  judg 
ment  and  a  writ  of  attachment,  and  accompanied 
by  a  burly  deputy  marshal  selected  for  the  ferocity 
of  his  appearance,  Levine  would  wait  until  some 
opportune  time  when  the  owner  of  the  shop  was 
again  absent  and  the  shop  had  been  left  in  charge 
of  the  same  clerk  or  a  member  of  the  family.  Burst 
ing  roughly  in,  he  would  demand  whether  or  not 
it  was  the  intention  of  the  owner  to  pay  the  judg 
ment,  while  at  the  same  moment  the  deputy  would 
levy  on  the  stock  in  trade. 

The  owner  of  the  shop,  having  been  hastily  sum 
moned,  would  return  to  demand  angrily  what  the 
rumpus  was  all  about.  By  this  time  the  clerk 

161 


The  Confessions  of 

would  have  recovered  his  wits  sufficiently  to  de 
nounce  the  proceeding  as  an  outrage  and  the  suit 
as  baseless.  But  his  master,  who  saw  judgment 
against  himself  for  sixty  dollars  and  his  goods 
actually  under  attachment,  was  usually  in  no  mood 
to  listen  to,  much  less  believe,  his  clerk's  explana 
tions.  At  all  events,  they  availed  naught,  when 
Levine,  with  an  expression  of  horror  at  such  delib 
erate  mendacity  on  the  part  of  the  clerk,  was  wont 
to  say: 

"Ask  him,  pray,  whether  he  has  not  got  the 
watch  in  his  pocket  at  this  very  moment!" 

Usually  this  was  indeed  the  fact,  as  the  clerk  had 
no  idea  what  else  to  do  with  it  until  Levine  should 
return. 

"So-ho!"  his  master  would  shout  wrathfully. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  you  did  not 
agree  to  buy  the  watch  ?  Why,  you  have  kept  it  all 
the  time!  What's  more,  you've  pretended  to  buy 
it  in  my  name!  And  now  my  shop  is  turned  into  a 
bear  garden  and  there  is  a  judgment  against  me 
and  my  goods  are  attached !  A  fine  result  of  your 
extravagance!" 

"But  I  never  agreed  to  buy  it!"  insists  the  clerk. 
"This  man  left  it  here  on  approval!" 

"Pish!"  answers  the  employer.  "That  is  all 
very  well;  but  what  have  you  to  say  to  the  judg- 

162 


Artemas  Quibble 

ment  of  the  court  ?  Now,  my  fine  fellow,  you  will 
either  pay  up  this  money  that  you  owe  or  I'll  ad 
vance  it  myself  and  take  it  out  of  your  wages." 

In  every  case,  despite  the  protests  of  the  clerk, 
the  money  would  be  handed  over  and  the  shop  re 
leased  from  levy.  Unfortunately,  after  working 
the  game  for  several  years,  Levine  came  a  cropper 
by  carelessly  trying  it  on  one  of  the  same  clerks  that 
he  had  victimized  some  time  before.  The  clerk, 
being  of  an  unusually  vindictive  disposition,  fol 
lowed  the  matter  up.  Having  first  arrested  the 
man  who  made  the  false  affidavit  of  service,  he  in 
duced  him  to  turn  State's  evidence  against  my  client 
and  landed  the  latter  in  jail.  Being  a  great  reader, 
however,  Levine  did  not  find  his  incarceration  par 
ticularly  unpleasant;  and,  hearing  of  the  Court  of 
Appeals  decision  in  the  McDufF  case,  he  spent  his 
time  in  devising  new  schemes  to  take  the  place  of 
his  now  antiquated  specialty.  On  his  release  he 
immediately  became  a  famous  "sick  engineer"  and 
for  a  long  time  enjoyed  the  greatest  prosperity,  un 
til  one  of  his  friends  victimized  him  at  his  own  game 
by  inducing  him  to  bet  ten  thousand  dollars  on  the 
outcome  of  a  prize-fight  that  he  was  simple-minded 
enough  to  believe  had  already  been  fought  and  won. 

This  was  an  elaborate  variation  of  the  ordinary 
wire-tapping  game,  where  the  sucker  or  lamb  is  in- 


The  Confessions  of 

troduced  to  a  person  alleged  to  be  an  inside  official 
of  a  large  telegraph  company,  who  is  ready  to  sell 
advance  information  of  the  results  of  sporting  events 
in  return  for  a  share  in  the  profits.  The  victim  is 
taken  to  a  supposed  "branch  office"  of  the  com 
pany  and  actually  hears  the  results  of  the  races  com 
ing  in  over  the  wires  and  being  telephoned  to  the 
pool-rooms.  Of  course  the  whole  place  is  merely  a 
plant  fitted  up  for  his  benefit.  He  is  then  taken 
to  a  supposed  pool-room  and  gives  up  his  money 
for  the  purpose  of  having  it  placed  as  a  wager  on  a 
horse-race  already  won.  Under  the  McDufF  case, 
it  had  been  held  by  the  courts  that  he  had  parted 
with  his  money  for  an  illegal  and  dishonest  pur 
pose — to  wit,  in  an  attempt  to  win  money  from  an 
other  who  was  wagering  his  own  money  in  good 
faith — and  the  rogue  who  had  seduced  his  con 
science  and  slit  his  purse  went  free.  This  was 
Levine's  favorite  field  of  operations. 

But  his  friend  went  him  one  better.  Knowing 
that  Levine  had  salted  away  a  lot  of  money,  he 
organized  a  gang  of  "cappers"  and  boosters,  who 
made  a  great  talk  about  the  relative  merits  of  two 
well-known  pugilists.  It  was  given  out  that  a  fight 
was  to  be  "  pulled  off"  up  the  Hudson  and  a  party 
was  made  up  to  attend  it.  A  private  car  was  taken 
by  the  friend  in  question  and  Levine  was  the  guest 


Artemas  Quibble 

of  honor.  Champagne  flowed  freely.  The  fight 
came  off  in  a  deserted  barn  near  a  siding  above 
Poughkeepsie;  and  Levine  wagered  all  of  his 
money,  with  other  prosperous-looking  guests  in  the 
car,  under  the  assumption  that  a  bargain  had  been 
made  between  the  "pugs "that  his  man  should  win. 
But  the  supposed  sports  were  all  "boosters"  in  his 
friend's  pay  and  the  other  man  won  after  a  spirited 
exhibition,  which,  although  exciting,  hardly  con 
soled  Levine  for  the  loss  of  his  money. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  those  of  my  clients  who 
made  great  sums  from  time  to  time  in  ways  similar 
to  these  rarely  had  any  money;  most  of  them  died 
in  abject  poverty.  Sooner  or  later  all  ran  foul  of 
the  law  and  had  to  give  up  to  the  lawyers  all  they 
had  managed  to  lay  by. 

When  at  last  John  Holliday,  a  dealer  in  automatic 
musical  instruments,  was  "trimmed"  out  of  sixty- 
five  thousand  dollars  by  various  schemes  of  this 
character,  the  tardy  Legislature  finally  amended  the 
penal  code  in  such  a  way  as  to  do  away  with  the 
farcical  doctrine  of  the  McDuff  case  and  drove  all 
our  erstwhile  clients  out  of  business. 


105 


CHAPTER  VIII 


"QHAKE  hands  with  Mr.  Dillingham,  Quib," 

O  said  Gottlieb  as  I  one  day  unexpectedly  en 
tered  the  latter's  office.  "We  have  a  matter  on 
hand  in  which  he  is  interested." 

"Glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Quibble,"  quoth  the 
client,  extending  a  rather  soft  hand.  "  Your  name 
is  well  known  to  me,  although  I  have  never  per 
sonally  had  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance." 

"The  future  will,  I  trust,  remedy  that,"  I  re 
plied,  not  particularly  impressed  with  the  stranger's 
features  or  expression,  but  conscious  somehow  of 
the  smell  of  money  about  him.  For  he  was  short 
and  fat  and  wore  a  brown  surtout  and  a  black  stove 
pipe  hat,  and  his  little  gray  eyes  peeped  out  of  full, 
round,  red  cheeks.  On  his  lower  lip  he  wore  a  tiny 
goatee. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  he  continued,  turning  again 
to  my  partner,  "we  all  of  us  make  mistakes  and  I 
made  my  biggest  one  when  I  annexed  the  present 
Mrs.  D.  I  was  a  young  fool  hardly  out  of  my  teens, 

166 


Artemas  Quibble 

and  the  sight  of  a  pretty  face  and  a  tearful  story  of 
woe  were  too  much  for  me.  She  was  an  actress. 
Comprenez  ?  A  sort  of  a  Lydia  Languish,  la-de-da 
kind  of  a  girl.  Oh,  she  caught  me  fast  enough,  and 
it  was  only  after  I  had  swallowed  the  hook,  sinker 
and  all,  that  I  found  out  she  was  married." 

"  Ho-ho ! "  remarked  Gottlieb.    "  The  old  story." 

"The  same  little  old  story,"  assented  Dilling- 
ham.  "Take  a  cigar?"  He  produced  a  well- 
filled  case. 

I  dropped  into  a  chair  and  hitched  it  toward 
them. 

"  Now,  the  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  continued  he, 
"  she  wouldn't  look  at  me  so  long  as  she  was  tied  to 
her  husband,  miserable  rat  though  he  was;  and  he 
was  and  is  a  rat!  I  could  call  and  take  her  out 
to  dinner,  and  all  that,  but — pst!  nothing  more! 
and  she  was  always  telling  me  how  I  was  her  good 
angel  and  inspired  her  to  higher  things!  Gad! 
even  then  it  bored  me !  But  I  could  see  nothing  but 
her  face.  You  know  how  it  is.  I  was  twenty-six 
and  a  clerk  in  a  hardware  house." 

He  laughed  grimly. 

"Well,  as  luck  would  have  it,  my  Uncle  James 
died  just  about  that  time  and  left  me  ten  thousand 
dollars  and  I  started  in  to  make  her  my  own  by 
getting  her  a  divorce.  Now,  this  husband  of  hers 


The  Confessions  of 

was  a  wretched  fellow — the  son  of  a  neighbor — 
who  never  got  beyond  being  a  waiter  in  a  railroad 
station.  Say,  it  is  rather  rough,  eh  ?  To  think  of 
'me,  Dillingham,  of  Dillingham,  Hodges  &  Flynn, 
the  biggest  independent  steel  men  in  the  State,  tied 
up  to  a  pale-faced  woman  who  can't  speak  the 
King's  English  properly  and  whose  first  husband  is 
a  waiter — yes,  a  waiter  to-day,  understand,  in  a 
railroad  restaurant  at  Baltimore!  It  makes  me 
sick  every  time  I  go  to  Washington.  I  can't  eat — 
fact!  So  I  hired  a  lawyer  for  her — you  know  him, 
I  guess — Bunce.  Oscar  Willoughby  Bunce!  And 
he  prepared  divorce  papers —  Oh,  we  had  cause 
enough!  And  the  next  time  Hawkins — that  was 
the  husband's  name,  Arthur  P.  Hawkins — came 
over  to  New  York,  to  borrow  some  money  from 
his  wife,  Bunce  slapped  a  summons  on  him.  It 
makes  me  squirm  to  think  how  delighted  I  was  to 
know  we  had  actually  begun  our  case.  Hawkins 
hired  a  lawyer,  I  believe,  and  pretended  he  was  go 
ing  to  put  up  a  defence,  but  I  bought  him  off  and 
we  got  our  decree  by  default.  Then,  gentlemen" 
— Dillingham  paused  with  a  wry  face — "  I  had  the 
inestimable  privilege  of  marrying  my  present  wife!'* 

He  sucked  meditatively  on  his  cigar  for  a  few 
moments  before  resuming  his  narrative. 

"Curious,  isn't  it — the  fascination  of  the  stage? 
168 


Artemas  Quibble 

You,  gentlemen,  probably  have  observed  it  even 
more  than  I  have;  but  when  he  sees  a  slim  girl  with 
yellow  curls  capering  around  in  tights  behind  the 
footlights,  a  young  man's  imagination  runs  riot  and 
he  fancies  her  the  incarnation  of  coquetry  and  the 
personification  of  vivacious  loveliness.  I  admit  it 
— the  present  Mrs.  Dillingham  was  a  dancer.  On 
the  stage  she  used  to  ogle  me  out  of  my  shoes  and 
off  it  she'd  help  me  spend  my  money  and  drink  my 
wine  and  jolly  me  up  to  beat  the  cars;  but  once  I'd 
married  her  she  changed  completely.  Instead  of 
a  dashing,  snappy,  tantalizing  sort  of  a  little  Yum- 
Yum,  she  turned  religious  and  settled  down  so  you 
wouldn't  have  known  her.  There  was  nothing  in 
it.  Instead  of  a  peach  I  had  acquired  a  lemon.  I 
expected  champagne  and  found  I  was  drinking  but 
termilk.  Get  me  ?  You  would  never  have  guessed 
she'd  been  inside  a  theatre  in  her  life.  Well,  we 
got  along  the  best  we  could  and  she  made  a  hit  at 
the  church,  as  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning. 
Used  to  tell  her  experiences  Friday  nights  and  have 
all  the  parsons  up  to  five-o'clock  tea.  Meanwhile 
I  forgot  my  romantic  dreams  of  flashing  eyes  and 
twinkling  feet  and  began  to  get  interested  in  busi 
ness.  To-day  I'm  worth  real  money  and  am  on  top 
of  the  heap  downtown ;  but  socially —  Good  Lord ! 
the  woman's  a  millstone!  She's  grown  fat  and 
talks  through  her  nose,  and -" 


The  Confessions  of 

"You  want  to  get  rid  of  her,"  finished  Gottlieb. 

"  Exactly ! "  answered  Dillingham.  "  How  much 
will  it  cost?" 

"I  think  you  had  better  give  me  your  check  for 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  begin  with,"  replied  my 
partner.  "  Such  a  case  presents  great  difficulties — 
almost  insuperable  without  money.  I  am  not  even 
sure  that  what  you  want  can  be  accomplished  with 
out  running  grave  personal  risks — not  on  your  part, 
but  on  ours.  Such  risks  must  be  compensated  for. 
What  you  desire,  I  take  it,  is  to  have  your  marriage 
annulled.  To  do  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  prove 
that  the  divorce  procured  by  Mrs.  Dillingham  from 
her  former  husband,  Hawkins,  was  improperly  and 
illegally  granted.  We  must  knock  out  the  decree 
in  Hawkins  versus  Hawkins  somehow  or  other.  To 
be  frank  with  you,  it  may  cost  you  a  large  sum." 

"It  is  worth  it,"  answered  Dillingham.  "Free 
me  from  this  woman  and  Til  give  you  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars." 

"Make  it  thirty-five  thousand  dollars,"  coaxed 
Gottlieb. 

"Well,  then,  thirty-five  thousand  dollars,"  said 
Dillingham  after  a  pause. 

"  But  you  must  promise  to  do  exactly  what  we  tell 
you!"  continued  my  partner. 

"I  expect  to,"  replied  the  other. 

"Very  good,  then,"  said  Gottlieb.  "In  the  first 
170 


Artemas  Quibble 

place,  the  original  decree  is  no  good  unless  the  sum 
mons  actually  was  served  on  Hawkins  and  the  suit 
properly  commenced.  Now,  perhaps  Bunce  served 
the  wrong  man.  He  didn't  know  Hawkins.  The 
latter  was  merely  pointed  out  to  him.  Already  I 
begin  to  feel  that  there  is  grave  doubt  as  to  whether 
the  proceedings  in  Hawkins  versus  Hawkins  were 
ever  legally  initiated." 

"Hold  on,  Mr.  Gottlieb!"  remonstrated  Dilling- 
ham.  "You  want  to  go  easy  there.  After  Haw 
kins  was  served  he  retained  a  lawyer.  I  know  that, 
dammit,  because  it  cost  me  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars  to  get  rid  of  him." 

"What  was  his  name  ?"  asked  Gottlieb  sharply. 

"Crookshank — Walter  E.  Crookshank — down 
on  Nassau  Street." 

Gottlieb  gave  a  short,  dry  laugh. 

"Luck's  with  you,  Dillingham.  Crookshank 
died  three  years  ago." 

None  of  us  broke  silence  for  the  space  of  about 
two  minutes. 

"You  see  now  why  this  sort  of  thing  costs 
money?"  finally  remarked  my  partner. 

Dillingham  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  handker 
chief  nervously. 

"  Say,"  he  began,  "isn't  that  taking  a  pretty  long 

chance?    I " 

171 


The  Confessions  of 

"It  is  taking  no  chance  at  all/'  retorted  Gottlieb, 
his  little  eyes  glistening  like  a  snake's.  "  You  have 
simply  retained  us  to  see  if  your  wife's  original 
divorce  was  regular — not  to  see  if  it  was  irregular — 
catch  on  ?  You  tell  us  nothing.  We  ask  you 
nothing.  We  make  our  investigation.  Much  to  our 
surprise  and  horror,  we  discover  that  the  defend 
ant  never  was  served — perhaps  that  he  never  even 
knew  of  the  proceeding  until  years  afterward.  We 
don't  know  what  you  know.  You  don't  need  to  know 
what  we  know.  We  simply  advise  you  the  divorce 
is  N.  G.  and  you  ask  no  questions.  We'll  attend 
to  all  that — for  our  thirty-five  thousand  dollars." 

"Well,  you  know  your  business,"  responded 
Dillingham  hesitatingly,  "and  I  leave  the  matter 
in  your  hands.  How  long  will  it  take  ?" 

"Everything  now  depends  on  our  friend  Haw 
kins,"  replied  Gottlieb.  "We  may  be  able  to  hand 
you  your  manumission  papers  in  three  months." 

When  Dillingham  had  written  out  his  check  and 
bade  us  good  day  I  no  longer  made  any  pretence 
of  concealing  from  my  partner  my  perturbation. 
I  had,  of  course,  known  that  from  time  to  time  we 
had  skated  on  thin  ice;  but  this  was  the  fist  occa 
sion  upon  which  Gottlieb  had  deliberately  acknowl 
edged  to  a  client  that  he  would  resort  to  perjury 
to  accomplish  his  ends. 

172 


Artemas  Quibble 

"  Don't  you  think  we're  running  entirely  too  close 
to  the  wind  ?"  I  asked,  pacing  up  and  down  the  office. 

"My  dear  Quib,"  answered  Gottlieb  soothingly, 
"  don't  agitate  yourself  over  so  trifling  a  matter. 
The  only  living  man  who  can  prove  that  Hawkins 
was  served  is  Bunce — and  Bunce  is  a  fool.  At  best 
it  would  simply  be  one  swearing  against  the  other. 
We  have  a  perfect  right  to  believe  Hawkins  in  pref 
erence  to  Bunce  if  we  choose.  Anyhow,  we're  not 
the  judge.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  present  the  evi 
dence  at  our  command — if  we  can  get  it.  And,  by 
Gad !  we  will  get  it  if  it  costs  us  ten  thousand  dollars! 
Why,  Quib,  the  thing  is  a  windfall.  Thirty-five 
thousand!  Why,  thirty-five  hundred  for  such  a 
case  would  be  a  big  fee!" 

"I  don't  know!"  I  answered,  for  I  felt  a  curious 
premonition  in  the  matter.  "Something  tells  me 
that  we  ought  to  take  no  chances." 

"Come,  come!"  quoth  Gottlieb,  with  a  slight 
show  of  irritation.  "Don't  lose  your  nerve. 
You've  done  many  a  worse  thing  than  this,  to  my 
own  knowledge!'* 

I  do  not  pretend  to  any  virtue  in  the  matter  and 
yet  I  must  admit  to  some  feelings  of  compunction 
about  Mrs.  Dillingham.  Truth  to  tell,  I  had  taken 
a  strong  dislike  to  her  husbaad,  with  his  sleek  con 
fidence  and  cold-blooded  selfishness.  In  addition, 


The  Confessions  of 

I  was  quite  sure  that  there  was  some  other  feH  rea 
son  why  he  wished  to  divorce  her — probably  he  had 
another  marriage  in  contemplation,  even  if  he  had 
not  admitted  it. 

"I  wish  we  could  make  the  beggar  do  his  own 
dkty  work,"  I  exclaimed. 

"But  what  does  he  pay  us  for  ?"  inquired  Gott 
lieb  innocently.  "Quib,  just  think  of  the  money!" 

I  had,  in  fact,  been  thinking  of  the  money,  and  it 
looked  very  good  to  me.  Since  my  days  in  Haight 
&  Foster's  law  office,  a  great,  great  change  had 
come  in  my  manner  of  life;  and,  though  my  friends 
to  a  great  extent  remained  among  the  theatrical  and 
sporting  class  to  which  I  had  received  my  fcrst  in 
troduction  on  coming  to  New  York,  I  now  occupied 
a  large  brick  house  with  stone  trimmings  in  Wash 
ington  Square,  where  I  entertained  in  truly  luxu 
rious  fashion.  I  had  a  French  cook  and  an  English 
butler,  and  drove  a  pair  of  trotters  that  were  second 
to  none  except  those  of  William  H.  Vanderbilt,  with 
whom  I  had  many  a  fast  brush  on  the  speedways. 

Though  I  had  never  allowed  myself  to  be  caught 
in  the  net  of  matrimony,  I  had  many  friends  among 
the  fair  sex,  particularly  among  those  who  graced 
the  footlights;  and  some  of  my  evening  parties  did 
not  break  up  until  dawn  was  glinting  over  the  roofs 
of  the  respectable  mansions  round  about  me.  It 

174 


Artemas  Quibble 

was  a  gay  life,  but  it  cost  money — almost  more 
money  than  I  could  make;  and  my  share  in  the 
thirty-five  thousand  dollars  offered  by  our  friend 
Dillingham  would  go  a  long  way  to  keeping  up  my 
establishment  for  another  year.  So  I  allowed  my 
qualms  to  give  me  no  further  uneasiness  and  told 
myself  that  Gottlieb  was  clever  enough  to  manage 
the  business  in  such  a  fashion  that  there  would  be 
no  "  come-back." 

A  week  or  so  later  I  encountered  in  our  office 
a  narrow-shouldered,  watery-eyed,  reddish-nosed 
party  that  I  instantly  recognized  for  Hawkins. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  matter,  for  he 
had  a  way  of  standing  at  attention  and  thrusting 
his  head  forward  when  addressed  that  were  un 
mistakable.  He  was  waiting,  it  turned  out,  for 
Gottlieb,  who  had  sent  for  him  to  come  on  from 
Baltimore;  and  the  readiness  with  which  he  had 
responded  could  be  better  accounted  for  by  the  five 
hundred  dollars  which  he  had  received  at  the  hands 
of  our  emissary  for  travelling  expenses  than  by  any 
desire  on  his  part  to  regain  die  society  of  the  present 
Mrs.  Dillingham. 

"  I  suppose,"  began  Gottlieb  when  he  had  retired 
to  the  seclusion  of  his  inner  office,  "that  you  fully 
understand  that  the  divorce  secured  by  your  wife  is 
inoperative —  Tut!  Tut!  Don't  interrupt  me!" 

175 


The  Confessions  of 

— for  Hawkins  had  opened  his  mouth  in  protest— 
"for  the  reason — for  the  very  good  reason,  I  re 
peat — that  you  were  never  served  with  any  sum 
mons  or  notified  that  the  proceeding  had  been 
commenced.  Am  I  correct?" 

Hawkins  grinned  and  turned  his  watery  eyes 
from  one  of  us  to  the  other. 

"  Quite  so,  sir ! "  he  stuttered.    "  Exactly,  sir ! " 

"Now,  on  the  contrary,  if  any  one  says  you  were 
served  with  such  a  paper,  it  was  quite  impossible, 
for  the  reason — by  the  way,  what  was  the  reason  ?" 

Hawkins  dropped  one  eyelid  to  a  narrow  slit  and 
pursed  his  lips. 

"Quite  impossible,  sir!  The  fact  is,  sir,  I  was 
waitin'  on  a  dinin'-car  that  ran  at  the  time  between 
San  Antonio  and  New  Orleans,  sir." 

"You  see,  Quib!"  exclaimed  Gottlieb.  "My 
suspicions  in  the  matter  were  quite  correct.  This 
gentleman  has  been  most  outrageously  treated!  If 
you  will  kindly  retire  for  a  moment — as  I  have  a 
matter  which  I  wish  to  discuss  with  him  privately 
« — I  will  turn  him  over  to  you  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  his  affidavit." 

A  few  moments  thereafter  Hawkins  appeared  in 
my  office,  apparently  in  the  act  of  stuffing  some 
thing  into  his  pocket,  and  announced  that  he  was 
ready  to  sign  his  "davy."  Although  I  had  no  taste 

176 


Artemas  Quibble 

for  the  business,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  do 
my  part;  so  I  called  in  a  stenographer  and  dictated 
the  following: 

SUPREME  COURT—  COUNTY  OF  NEW  YORK 

RUFUS  P.  DILLINGHAM,  Plaintiff")     .    . 

Actlon 


aganst 
LILIAN    DILLINGHAM,   Defendant)       ment  of  Marriage 

CITY  AND  COUNTY  OF  NEW  YORK,  ss.: 

ARTHUR  P.  HAWKINS,  being  duly  sworn,  deposes  and 
says:  that  he  is  forty-three  years  old,  a  waiter  by  occu 
pation,  and  resides  in  the  city  of  Baltimore,  Maryland; 
that  he  was  married  to  the  defendant  herein  on  the  eigh 
teenth  day  of  June,  187-,  and  thereafter  lived  with  her 
as  man  and  wife  until  the  month  of  December,  1882, 
when  for  some  reason  unknown  to  deponent  the  defend 
ant  left  his  house  and  did  not  thereafter  return;  that  he 
has  recently  learned  that  said  defendant,  in  July,  1887, 
procured  a  decree  of  divorce  against  him  in  the  county 
and  State  of  New  York,  upon  grounds  of  which  deponent 
is  totally  ignorant,  and  that  thereafter  said  defendant 
contracted  a  marriage  with  one  Rufus  P.  Dillingham,  the 
plaintiff  herein;  that  deponent  was  never  served  with  any 
summons  or  complaint  in  said  action  of  divorce  and  had 
no  knowledge  or  information  that  any  such  proceeding 
was  pending  against  him;  that  he  never  appeared  in  such 
proceeding  and  until  recently  always  supposed  that  the 
defendant  was  his  lawful  wife. 

p- 


ISAAC  M.  COHEN, 
Notary  Public,  New  York  County. 

177 


The  Confessions  of 

There  was  something  about  this  seedy  rascal  that 
filled  me  with  disgust  and  suspicion,  and  he  looked 
at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  his  evil  eyes  as  if  he  knew 
that  by  some  trick  of  fate  he  had  me  in  his  power 
and  was  gloating  over  it.  Even  while  he  was  swear 
ing  to  the  paper  he  had  a  sickly  sneer  on  his  pimply 
face  that  sickened  me;  and  when  Cohen,  my  clerk, 
administered  the  oath  to  him  he  had  the  audacity 
to  wink  in  his  face  and  answer: 

"It's  the  truth— not!" 

Cohen,  who  knew  a  thing  or  two  and  had  taken 
affidavits  before,  merely  laughed,  but  the  words 
sent  a  shiver  down  rny  spine  and  I  snarled  out: 

"  Be  careful  what  you  are  saying!  Do  you  swear 
that  this  affidavit  of  yours  is  true  ?" 

"Yes,  sir!  Yes,  sir!"  he  hastened  to  answer, 
somewhat  chagrined  at  my  not  taking  as  a  joke 
what  he  had  intended  for  one. 

"Very  well,"  said  I  to  Cohen.  "  Show  the  gentle 
man  out.  I'm  very  busy.  Good-day." 

Afterward  I  would  have  given  all  the  money  I 
possessed  to  undo  what  I  had  done. 

•  ••••••« 

The  case  of  Dillingham  versus  Dillingham  duly 
came  on  for  trial,  with  Oscar  Willoughby  Bunce  as 
the  chief  witness  for  the  defendant.  He  had  visited 
our  office  several  times  in  an  attempt  to  convince 


Artemas  Quibble 

us  that  we  were  entirely  misinformed  in  regard  to 
the  service  of  the  papers  in  the  original  action  and 
had  insisted  vehemently  that  he  had  personally  de 
livered  them  to  Hawkins  in  the  office  of  the  Astor 
House.  Gottlieb  had  gently  assured  him  that  he 
must  be  mistaken  and  bowed  him  out,  but  Bunce 
for  once  in  his  little  toy  career  was  "all  up  in  the 
air."  He  felt  that  his  own  integrity  was,  in  some 
mysterious  way,  at  stake,  since  it  was  upon  his  own 
testimony  to  the  effect  that  he  had  made  the  service 
of  the  papers  in  question  that  the  original  decree 
had  in  part  been  granted.  The  case  was  sent  to  a 
referee  for  hearing,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  day 
set  Gottlieb  called  me  into  his  office  and  said: 

"Harkee,  Quib!  Pve  a  plan  that  will  put  our 
little  friend  Bunce's  nose  out  of  joint  for  good.  It 
is  nearly  seven  years  now  since  he  has  seen  Haw 
kins  and  it  was  then  only  for  a  moment." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "what  is  your  game?" 

"Come  along  to  the  hearing  and  you'll  find  out, 
my  lad,"  answered  Gottlieb.  "Don't  fail  if  you 
want  to  see  some  fun." 

Curious  to  discover  what  trick  Gottlieb  would  be 
able  to  play,  I  accordingly  arranged  my  work  so  as 
to  attend  the  hearing,  which  was  to  be  held  in  the 
referee's  office  in  an  old  wooden  building  on  Broad 
way.  As  I  climbed  the  stairs  I  caught  sight  of 

179 


The  Confessions  of 

Hawkins  skulking  on  one  of  the  landings,  but  he 
laid  a  finger  on  his  lips  and  I  passed  on  and  up  to 
the  attorney's  office.  The  room,  like  most  old- 
fashioned  lawyers'  offices,  was  but  dimly  lighted, 
and  on  entering  I  found  the  other  side,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  Mrs.  Dillingham,  already  there.  The 
referee  sat  at  one  end  of  a  large  table,  surrounded 
by  his  books,  with  the  stenographer  beside  him; 
and  to  his  left  sat  Bunce  and  a  lawyer  named  Stires, 
the  present  "attorney  of  record"  for  the  defendant 
I  took  my  seat  opposite  them,  introduced  myself  to 
the  referee  and  waited.  In  a  few  moments  the  door 
opened  noisily  and  Gottlieb  entered  with  much 
bustle,  accompanied  by  a  clerk  carrying  books  and 
papers  and  by  a  perfectly  strange  man,  arrayed  in 
very  new  clothes,  who  seemed  much  embarrassed 
and  doubtful  as  to  what  he  should  do. 

"Good  afternoon,  gentlemen!"  exclaimed  Gott 
lieb  breezily.  "I  regret  to  have  kept  you  waiting, 
but  I  was  unavoidably  detained.  Shall  I  sit  down 
here  ?  Yes  ?  Very  good.  Please  take  your  seat 
beside  me,  Mr.  Hawkins." 

The  stranger  blushed,  fumbled  his  hat,  and  sat 
down  bashfully  in  the  place  designated. 

"Are  you  ready  to  proceed,  gentlemen?"  in 
quired  the  referee  over  his  spectacles.  "  Call  your 
first  witness." 

1 80 


Artemas  Quibble 

Bunce,  who  kad  been  fidgeting  in  his  eagerness  to 
tell  what  he  knew,  instantly  bobbed  up  and  asked 
to  be  sworn. 

After  giving  his  name,  age,  and  profession,  he 
detailed  how  he  had  prepared  the  papers  in  the 
original  case  of  Hawkins  versus  Hawkins  and 
served  them  upon  the  defendant  personally  at  the 
Astor  House. 

"I  handed  them  to  Mr.  Hawkins  myself  and  ex 
plained  them  to  him.  He  was  dressed  very  much 
as  he  is  now,"  cried  Bunce.. 

"Do  you  positively  identify  this  gentleman  on 
your  oath  as  the  person  you  served  with  the  sum 
mons  and  complaint?"  inquired  Gottlieb  as  if  the 
matter  were  merely  one  of  routine. 

"Absolutely!"  retorted  Bunce  hotly.  "I  could 
identify  him  anywhere  by  the  shape  of  his  nose.  I 
took  especial  pains  to  remark  his  appearance  in 
case  the  service  should  ever  be  disputed." 

"Thank  you.  That  is  all,"  said  Gottlieb.  Then 
turning  to  the  stranger  he  directed  him  to  take  the 
stand. 

"What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked  sternly. 

"Aaron  Finklestein — as  you  know  very  well, 
Mr.  Gottlieb,"  answered  the  stranger. 

"Do  you  recognize  this  gentleman  who  has  just 
testified?"  indicating  Bunce. 

181 


The  Confessions  of 

"As  far  as  I  know  I  never  saw  him  in  rny  life,'* 
answered  Finklestein. 

"Did  he  ever  serve  you  with  any  papers — in  the 
Astor  House  or  anywhere  else?" 

"Never." 

"What  is  your  business?" 

"I  am  an  undertaker/' 

In  an  instant  the  room  was  in  a  turmoil,  Bunce 
screaming  out  that  he  had  been  tricked  by  a  parcel 
of  shysters,  Gottlieb  indignantly  defending  his  ruse 
as  a  perfectly  proper  method  of  discrediting  Bunce, 
and  the  referee  vainly  endeavoring  to  restore  order. 
As  for  myself,  in  spite  of  my  anxiety  over  the  whole 
affair,  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  laugh  heartily 
over  Bunce's  ludicrous  mistake.  When  Hawkins 
was  brought  in  from  outside  and,  after  proclaiming 
his  identity,  denied  ever  being  served  in  the  original 
action,  the  referee  was  but  little  inclined  to  listen  to 
Lawyer  Bunce,  who  now  corrected  his  testimony 
and  swore  just  as  insistently  that  the  real  Hawkins 
was  the  person  to  whom  he  had  given  the  papers  in 
the  case. 

Here,  then,  was  as  pretty  a  trick  as  had  ever  been 
played  on  an  unsuspecting  and  well-meaning  law 
yer;  and  by  it  Gottlieb  had  so  strengthened  our 
position  that,  very  likely,  the  referee  would  have 
found  for  our  side  even  had  not  Hawkins  taken  it 

182 


Artemas  Quibble 

upon  himself  to  swear  the  matter  through.  More 
over,  the  only  person  who  could  have  disproved  the 
latter's  testimony  or  given  evidence  that  might  have 
militated  against  its  probability — to  wit,  Crook- 
shank,  his  former  attorney — was  dead  and  buried, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  truth  were  buried  with  him. 
On  the  way  back  to  our  office  I  congratulated  my 
partner  on  the  Napoleonic  strategy  which  he  had 
displayed  and  a  few  days  later  a  more  substantial 
compliment  followed,  in  the  shape  of  an  unqualified 
finding  in  our  favor  on  the  part  of  the  referee. 

"Was  ever  thirty-five  thousand  dollars  earned  so 
easily  ?"  laughed  Gottlieb  over  his  cigar  as  we  were 
dining  at  Delmonico's. 

"So  long  as  Hawkins  stays  bought — yes,"  I  an 
swered. 

"Don't  be  a  death's  head,  Quib!"  he  retorted. 
"Why,  even  if  he  turned  State's  evidence,  no  one 
would  believe  him!  Have  another  glass  of  this 
vintage — we  can  drink  it  every  night  now  for  a  year 
at  Dillingham's  expense!" 

"Well,  here's  to  you,  Gottlieb!"  I  answered,  fill 
ing  my  goblet  with  the  creaming  wine;  "  and  here's 
to  crime — whereby  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being!" 

And  we  clinked  our  glasses  and  drained  them 
with  a  laugh. 

183 


The  Confessions  of 

I  had  now  been  a  resident  of  New  York  for  up 
ward  of  twenty  years  and  had  acquired,  as  the 
junior  member  of  the  firm  of  Gottlieb  &  Quibble, 
an  international  reputation.  It  is  true  that  my 
partner  and  I  felt  it  to  be  beneath  our  diginity  to 
advertise  in  the  newspapers — and,  indeed,  advertis 
ing  in  New  York  City  was  for  us  entirely  unneces 
sary — but  we  carried  a  card  regularly  in  the  Eng 
lish  journals  and  received  many  retainers  from 
across  the  water;  in  fact,  we  controlled  practically 
all  the  theatrical  business  in  the  city,  drawing  the 
contracts  for  the  managers  and  being  constantly 
engaged  in  litigations  on  their  behalf.  We  had  long 
since  abandoned  as  trivial  all  my  various  profit- 
sharing  schemes,  and,  with  the  exception  of  carrying 
on  our  pay-rolls  many  of  the  attendants  attached  to 
the  police  and  other  criminal  courts,  had  practically 
no  "runners."  We  did  not  need  any.  There  was  no 
big  criminal  case  in  which  we  were  not  retained  for 
the  defence  and  rarely  a  divorce  action  of  any  noto 
riety  where  we  did  not  appear  for  one  of  the  parties. 

This  matter  of  Hawkins's  was  the  first  in  twenty 
years  in  which  we  had  ever  deliberately  faked  an 
entire  case!  Yet,  if  ever  there  was  a  safe  opportu 
nity  to  do  so,  this  seemed  the  one,  and  I  cannot 
even  BOW  charge  Gottlieb  with  recklessness  in 
taking  the  chances  that  he  did;  but,  as  luck  would 

184 


Artemas  Quibble 

have  it,  there  were  two  facts  connected  with  the 
Dillingham  annulment  the  significance  of  which 
we  totally  overlooked — one,  that  Bunce  was  not  so 
much  of  a  fool  as  he  looked,  and  the  other,  that 
Mrs.  Dillingham  was  a  mother. 

Once,  however,  judgment  had  been  entered  to 
the  effect  that  Mrs.  Dillingham  had  never  lawfully 
ceased  to  be  Mrs.  Hawkins,  then  the  real  reason  of 
our  client's  anxiety  to  be  rid  of  his  wife  and  her 
child,  a  girl  of  six  years,  became  apparent;  for  he 
instantly  announced  his  engagement  to  a  fashiona 
ble  widow,  who  lacked  money  if  not  experience, 
and  who  needed  the  one  as  much  as  he  had  a  super 
abundance  of  the  other.  He  made  a  fairly  liberal 
allowance  for  his  child  and  its  mother,  and  since 
this  was  paid  monthly  through  our  office,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  making  their  acquaintance;  and  I 
confess  that  I  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  I  began 
to  have  a  sort  of  regret  for  my  own  part  in  the  trans 
action.  For  Mrs.  Dillingham — Hawkins,  or  what 
ever  she  was — proved  to  be  a  rather  sweet-faced 
young  woman,  with  great,  sad  blue  eyes  and  a  win- 
somely  childish  innocence  of  expression  that  con 
cealed,  as  I  afterward  found  out,  a  will  of  iron  and 
a  heart  full  of  courage. 

She  used  to  come  and  wait  for  Gottlieb  or  me  to 
pay  over  her  money,  and  while  she  waited  she  would 


The  Confessions  of 

sit  there  so  helplessly,  looking  withal  so  lovely,  that 
the  clerks  cannot  be  blamed  for  having  talked  to 
her.  Incidentally  she  extracted  from  the  suscepti 
ble  Cohen  various  trifles  in  the  way  of  information 
which  later  proved  highly  inconvenient.  Yet  she 
never  asked  me  or  my  partner  any  questions  or 
showed  the  slightest  resentment  at  the  part  we  had 
played  as  her  husband's  attorneys  in  ruining  her 
life.  Sometimes  she  brought  the  little  girl  with  her 
and  I  marvelled  that  Dillingham  could  have  sacri 
ficed  such  a  charming  little  daughter  so  easily. 

Six  months  passed  and  the  Dillingham  scandal 
ceased  to  be  a  matter  of  public  or  even  of  private 
interest.  Other  affairs,  equally  profitable,  en 
gaged  our  attention,  and  the  waiter,  Hawkins,  hav 
ing  received  a  substantial  honorarium  from  the 
firm's  bank  account,  had  passed  completely  out  of 
our  minds.  I  had  that  winter  been  giving  a  series 
of  dinners  at  my  house  to  my  actor  clients  and  their 
managers,  and  these  had  proved  conspicuously  suc 
cessful  for  the  reason  that  my  guests  were  of  the  sort 
who,  after  the  wine  had  begun  to  flow,  had  no 
hesitation  in  entertaining  the  rest  of  the  company 
by  an  exhibition  of  their  talents.  Occasionally, 
as  part  of  the  fun,  I  would  do  a  bit  of  a  turn  myself 
by  way  of  reviving  old  memories  of  the  Cock  and 
Spur  and  my  Athenaeum  days  in  Boston. 

186  ^ 


I  marvelled  that  Dillingham  could  have  sacrificed  such  a 
charming  little  daughter  so  easily 


Artemas  Quibble 

It  was  on  one  of  these  festive  occasions — not  un* 
like,  my  readers  may  recall,  my  famous  translation 
from  college  during  my  banquet  at  the  Cambridge 
Tavern — that  Fate  struck  me  my  first  severe  blow. 
My  guests  were  still  sitting  at  table  while  one  of  the 
ladies  executed  a  fantastic  dance  amid  the  wine 
glasses,  when  my  butler  touched  me  upon  the  arm 
and  whispered  that  Mr.  Gottlieb  was  outside  and 
desired  to  see  me  on  urgent  business.  Excusing 
myself,  I  hurried  out,  greeting  my  partner  rather 
impatiently,  as  I  disliked  to  be  interrupted  by  busi 
ness  details  in  my  hours  of  relaxation;  but  one 
sight  of  his  weazened  little  hawk  face  sufficed  to  tell 
me  that  no  trifling  matter  was  at  stake.  He  was  in 
his  day  clothes,  which  were  even  more  than  ordi 
narily  dishevelled,  and  his  face,  usually  pale,  was 
chalklike. 

"  Quibble,"  he  cried  in  a  rasping  voice  as  soon 
as  my  man  had  gone,  "our  luck's  turned!  That 
woman  has  tricked  us.  She  and  Bunce  went  down 
to  Crookshank's  office  and,  under  the  pretext  of 
looking  for  some  deed  or  release,  went  through  his 
papers  and  turned  up  some  letters  from  Hawkins 
in  regard  to  the  original  divorce  proceedings. 
They've  got  one  in  which  he  admits  being  served 
by  Bunce  in  the  Astor  House  and  asks  Crookshank 
to  appear  for  him.  They've  got  another,  written 

187 


The  Confessions  of 

after  Dillingham  had  fixed  him,  telling  Crookshank 
to  put  in  no  defence.  Yesterday  she  and  Bunce 
went  before  the  grand  jury,  who  returned  an  indict 
ment  against  Hawkins  for  perjury.  Then  she  tele 
graphed  him  to  come  on  to  New  York  and  meet  her 
to  arrange  some  money  matters;  and  when  he 
stepped  off  the  train  this  afternoon  he  was  arrested 
and  taken  to  police  head-quarters." 

"My  God!"  I  cried,  turning  quite  faint. 
"What's  to  be  done?" 

"Get  him  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible!" 
answered  Gottlieb,  his  lips  trembling.  "To-mor 
row  morning  he  will  be  arraigned  in  the  General 
Sessions.  They  are  going  to  ask  for  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  bail.  We've  got  to  get  it.  It's  the 
only  thing  that  stands  between  us  and  State  prison, 
for  they've  got  the  goods  on  Hawkins  and  unless 
we  see  him  safe  he'll  turn  on  us  and  help  them 
send  us  up!" 

"Have  you  seen  him?"  I  gasped. 

"I've  just  come  from  head-quarters,"  he  an 
swered.  "The  fool  had  been  drinking  and  had 
given  up  a  lot  of  information  already.  So  I  fright 
ened  him  until  he  agreed  to  shut  up.  The  trouble 
is  we  gave  him  too  much  money.  He  says  now 
that  unless  we  protect  him  and  keep  him  out  of 
State  prison  he  will  give  up  the  whole  game  to  the 

188 


Artemas  Quibble 

district  attorney.  That  would  be  fine,  wouldn't  it! 
The  district  attorney  wouldn't  waste  much  time  on 
Arthur  P.  Hawkins  if  he  could  land  Gottlieb  & 
Quibble  in  jail  for  subornation  of  perjury,  would 
he — eh  ?  We've  got  to  scratch  gravel — and  quick 
too!" 

"  But  where  can  we  raise  fifty  thousand  dollars  ?" 
I  groaned  helplessly. 

"Dillingham,"  he  retorted  without  hesitation. 
"He's  our  only  hope.  He's  in  as  bad  as  the  rest 
of  us.  If  we  go  we  can  pull  him  along  too.  I  un 
derstand  that  the  woman  is  prepared  to  swear  not 
only  that  Hawkins  admitted  to  her  that  he  was 
properly  served,  but  that  she  told  this  to  Dilling 
ham,  and  that  he  and  Hawkins  talked  the  thing 
over  in  her  presence.  Besides,  Cohen  confessed 
to  me  to-day  that  she  had  pumped  him  all  about 
Hawkins's  coming  over  to  New  York  and  signing 
papers;  and,  although  he  swears  he  didn't  tell  her 
anything  in  particular,  yet  I  don't  trust  the  idiot. 
No,  Quib;  it's  bad  business  and  we've  got  to  get 
Hawkins  out  of  the  way  at  any  cost." 

It  was  not  until  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  that  I  discovered  Dillingham's  whereabouts, 
which  happened  to  be  the  Fifth  Avenue  house  of  a 
fashionable  friend,  where  he  was  playing  poker. 
He  greeted  me  in  much  the  same  inhospitable  fash- 

189 


The  Confessions  of 

ion  that  I  had  accorded  to  Gottlieb,  but  only  a  few 
words  were  needed  to  convince  him  of  the  gravity 
of  the  case.  I  had  never  loathed  the  man  more 
than  I  did  at  that  instant  when,  with  a  cigar  stuffed 
in  his  fat  face,  he  came  out  of  the  card-room, 
dressed  in  his  white  waistcoat  and  pearl  studs,  and 
with  a  half-drunken  leer  asked  what  I  wanted. 

"I  want  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  keep  you  and 
me  out  of  State  prison!"  I  cried. 

He  turned  a  sickly  yellow  and  gave  a  sort  of  chok 
ing  gasp. 

"Hawkins!"  he  muttered.     "Damn  him!" 

Then  Dillingham  had  a  sort  of  fit,  due  no  doubt 
partly  to  the  fact  that  he  had  drunk  more  cham 
pagne  than  was  good  for  him;  for  he  trembled  with 
a  kind  of  ague  and  then  broke  out  in  a  sweat  and 
blubbered,  and  uttered  incoherent  oaths,  until  I 
was  half  beside  myself  lest  he  should  keep  it  up  all 
night  and  I  should  not  get  the  money  from  him. 
But  at  last  he  regained  control  of  himself  and  prom 
ised  to  borrow  the  fifty  thousand  dollars  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  and  to  have  it  at  my  office  by 
ten  o'clock.  Yet,  as  I  bade  him  good  night,  he  had 
another  turn  of  terror  and  his  teeth  chattered  in  his 
head  as  he  stammered  out  that  he  was  a  ruined  man, 
that  he  had  cast  off  a  good  wife  for  a  deceitful  hussy 
who  only  wanted  his  money,  that  he  had  lost  his 

190 


Artemas  Quibble 

child,  that  now  his  career  was  over,  and  that,  unless 
I  stood  by  him,  he  would  end  his  days  in  prison. 
This  was  hardly  the  sort  of  encouragement  I 
wanted;  and  though  his  words  brought  the  cold 
sweat  out  upon  my  back,  I  told  him  pretty  sharply 
that  he  had  better  pull  himself  together  and  not  be 
any  more  of  a  fool  than  he  could  help,  that  all  we 
needed  was  enough  money  to  whip  Hawkins  out  of 
the  way,  and  that  if  he  would  "come  up"  with  the 
needful  we  would  look  out  for  him.  I  left  him  a 
disgusting  sight,  sitting  in  a  red  plush  armchair, 
with  his  face  in  his  hands,  his  hair  streaking  down 
across  his  forehead,  moaning  and  mumbling  to 
himself. 

Outside,  the  city  slept  the  prenatal  sleep  of  dawn. 
A  pale  greenish  veil  hung  over  the  roofs,  through 
which  day  must  peer  before  awakening  those  who 
slept  beneath.  I  had  often  noticed  this  greenish 
color  in  the  sky,  made  doubtless  by  the  flare  of  gas 
and  electricity  against  the  blue-black  zenith,  yet 
never  before  had  I  felt  its  depressing  character.  It 
was  the  green  of  jealousy,  of  disappointment,  of 
envy,  hatred,  and  malice  and  all  un charitableness! 
The  city  trembled  in  its  sleep  and  the  throbbing 
of  its  mighty  pulse  beat  evilly  upon  my  ears  with 
distant  hostile  rumblings.  I  was  alone  in  it  and  in 
danger.  Disaster  and  ruin  were  looking  for  me 

191 


Artemas  Quibble 

around  the  comer.  I  was  like  a  child,  helpless  and 
homeless.  I  could  not  call  upon  God,  for  I  did  not 
believe  in  Him. 

It  came  home  to  me,  as  I  stood  there  in  the  night 
upon  the  open  street,  that  there  was  not  one  soul 
among  aH  the  city's  sleeping  millions  who  owed  me 
aught  but  harm,  and  that  even  those  who  had 
drunk  the  wine  of  my  hospitality  had  done  so 
more  in  fear  than  in  friendship.  I  had  no  friends 
but  those  who  were  bound  to  me  in  some  devil's 
bargain — no  kith,  no  kin,  nor  the  memory  of  a 
mother's  love.  As  I  lingered  there,  like  some  out 
cast  beast  waiting  for  day  to  drive  me  to  my  lair, 
I  envied,  with  a  fierce  hatred  and  with  a  bitter  and 
passionate  pity  for  myself,  those  to  whom  Fate  had 
been  more  kind  and  given  home  and  wife  and  chil 
dren,  or  at  least  the  affection  of  their  fellow  men, 
and  I  envkd  the  lads  I  had  known  in  college  who 
led  dean  lives  and  who  had  shunned  me — they 
knew  not  why — and  the  happy-go-lucky  Quirk  and 
his  busy  wife;  and  even  old  Tuckerman  Toddle- 
ham,  in  his  dingy  office  in  Barristers'  Hall. 


192 


CHAPTER  IX 

DAYBREAK  found  me  still  wandering  in  the 
streets,  haunted  by  the  fear  that  the  police 
might  already  be  upon  my  track  and  furious  at  the 
thought  that  one  foolish  step  should  have  changed 
me  from  a  prosperous  and  powerful  member  of  the 
bar  into  a  fugitive.  Often  in  earlier  days  I  had 
pitied  the  wretches  who  would  come  slinking  into 
our  office  after  nightfall,  empty  their  pockets  of 
gold  and  notes — taken  often,  no  doubt,  by  force 
or  fraud  from  others — and  pour  it  out  before  us, 
begging  for  our  aid  to  save  them  from  punishment. 
It  seemed  incredible  to  me  that  human  beings 
should  have  staked  their  liberty  and  often  their 
lives  for  a  few  wretched  dollars.  Outcasts,  they 
skulked  through  existence,  forced,  once  they  had 
begun,  to  go  on  and  on  committing  new  crimes — 
on  the  one  hand  to  live,  and  on  the  other  to  pay 
tribute  to  Gottlieb  and  myself,  who  alone  stood  be 
tween  them  and  jail.  How  they  had  cringed  to  us. 
We  were  their  masters,  cracking  the  lash  of  black- 

193 


The  Confessions  of 

mail  across  their  shoulders  and  sharing  equally,  if 
invisibly,  in  their  crimes!  And  how  I  had  scorned 
them — fools,  as  they  seemed  to  me,  to  take  such 
desperate  chances!  Yet,  as  the  sun  rose,  I  now 
saw  myself  as  one  of  the  beings  whom  I  had  so  de 
spised.  We  were  no  longer  their  masters — they 
were  our  masters!  Hawkins  had  us  in  his  power. 
He  alone  could  prevent  us  from  donning  prison 
stripes. 

Already  the  streets  were  beginning  to  stir.  Wag 
ons  rumbled  along  the  pavements.  Streams  of 
people  emerged  from  the  caverns  of  the  east  and 
trudged  westward  across  the  city.  I  circled  the 
square  and  entered  it  from  the  lower  side.  My  big 
brick  mansion,  with  its  stone  trimmings — the  home 
where  I  had  held  my  revels  and  entertained  my 
friends,  where  I  had  worked  and  slept — was  but  a 
stone's  throw  away.  I  strained  my  eyes  to  detect 
any  signs  of  the  police;  but  the  street  was  empty. 
Then,  pulling  my  hat  down  upon  my  head,  I  turned 
up  my  coat-collar  and,  glancing  from  side  to  side, 
hurried  across  the  square  and  let  myself  in. 

The  household  still  slept.  The  air  was  close  and 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  roses  and  the  reek  of 
dead  cigars.  On  the  floor  of  the  entrance  hall  lay 
a  pair  of  women's  white  gloves,  palms  upward. 
Beyond,  through  the  open  doors  of  the  dining- 

194 


Artemas  Quibble 

room,  I  could  see  the  uncleared  table,  littered  over 
with  half-empty  bottles  and  glasses.  An  upset 
chair  reclined  as  it  had  fallen.  Last  night  I  had 
been  an  envied  host:  to-day  I  was  an  outcast. 

As  I  stood  there,  a  shadow  darkened  the  door 
way  and  with  a  leap  of  the  heart  I  jumped  behind 
a  portiere.  Then,  as  the  shadow  remained  and 
knowing  that  in  any  event  I  was  trapped,  I  threw 
open  the  door.  Gottlieb,  with  wild  eyes  peering 
out  of  a  haggard  face,  stood  before  me.  Without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  he  dodged  inside. 

"Did  you  get  it?"  he  almost  shrieked. 

"Yes/5 1  answered  faintly.  "What  are  we  to  do?" 

"For  God's  sake,  give  me  something  to  drink!'* 
he  cried.  "I  need  it!" 

1  led  him  to  the  sideboard  and  filled  two  glasses 
with  whiskey. 

"Here's  to  crime!"  I  muttered,  with  a  bitter 
laugh. 

Gottlieb  shot  a  fierce  look  at  me  and  his  hand 
shook  so  that  I  thought  he  would  drop  the  tumbler; 
but  he  poured  the  liquor  down  his  throat  and  threw 
himself  into  a  chair. 

"That  fellow  has  us  by  the  throat!"  he  groaned. 

"We  should  have  thought  of  that — "  I  began. 

"Stop!"  he  gasped.  "You  can  hold  a  post 
mortem  later  on.  They  haven't  got  us  yet — and, 

195 


The  Confessions  of 

by  God !  we've  a  long  start.  Once  let  us  whip  Haw 
kins  out  of  the  way  and  they're  helpless!  I  must 
stay  here  to  fight  the  case,  but  you,  Quib,  must  take 
this  fellow  where  they'll  never  find  him — Africa, 
Alaska,  Europe — anywhere!  If  you  could  drop 
him  over  a  precipice  or  off  an  ocean  liner — so  much 
the  better!" 

For  an  instant  we  eyed  each  other  keenly.  Then 
I  shook  my  head. 

"No,"  said  I.  "If  it  came  to  that  I'd  rather  go 
to  jail." 

It  was  now  nearly  seven  o'clock  and  I  felt  faint 
for  something  to  eat;  so  I  stumbled  upstairs  and 
awakened  my  butler,  who  stared  at  me  stupidly 
when  he  saw  me  beside  his  bed  in  evening  dress. 
When  I  rejoined  Gottlieb  I  found  him  examining 
the  morning  paper,  which  a  boy  had  just  brought  to 
the  front  door.  Across  the  first  page  in  double- 
headed  type  was  printed: 

THE  DILLINGHAM  DIVORCE  AGAIN 

Arthur  P.  Hawkins  Indicted  for  Perjury 

Extraordinary  Disclosures  Expected 
Two  Prominent  Criminal  Attorneys  Said  to  be  Involved 

"They've  raised  the  hue  and  cry  already!"  mut 
tered  my  partner,  pointing  to  the  paper.  "  Damn 

196 


,   Artemas  Quibble 

them!  How  ready  they  are  to  turn  on  a  man! 
Think  of  all  the  stories  I've  given  to  these  very 
papers!  Stories  worth  thousands  of  dollars  to  'em! 
And  now —  They're  after  our  hearts'  blood!" 

While  we  were  waiting  for  our  breakfast  he  out 
lined  his  plan.  We  were  to  get  Hawkins  out  of 
town  as  soon  as  we  had  given  bail  for  him.  Of 
course  the  railroads  and  ferries  would  be  watched, 
but  we  could  manage  somehow.  I  must  take  the 
fellow  where  nobody  would  find  him  and  keep  him 
there.  If  he  ever  were  brought  back  and  convicted 
he  would  turn  on  us  like  a  snake.  Only  while  he 
still  hoped  to  escape  prison  could  we  count  on  his 
co-operation.  Meanwhile  my  partner  would  re 
main  in  the  city  and  try  to  upset  the  indictment. 
Anyhow,  some  one  must  stand  guard  over  Dilling- 
ham;  for,  if  he  lost  his  nerve  and  endeavored  to 
save  himself  by  confessing  his  part  in  the  affair,  we 
would  be  lost! 

Gloomily  we  ate  a  few  pieces  of  toast  and  swal 
lowed  our  coffee.  Then  I  hastily  changed  my 
clothes  and  accompanied  Gottlieb  to  the  Tombs, 
to  which  Hawkins  had  been  transferred  the  night 
before.  He  was  brought  down  to  us  in  the  counsel- 
room,  looking  like  a  scared  and  sickly  ghost.  What 
little  spirit  he  had  before  had  already  vanished.  I 
have  never  seen  a  more  wretched  human  creature. 

197 


The  Confessions  of 

His  one  dread  was  of  going  to  prison;  and  together 
we  hastened  to  convince  him  that  his  only  avenue 
of  escape  lay  through  us.  We  pointed  out  to  him 
that  so  long  as  he  stuck  to  the  story  we  should  pre 
pare  for  him  he  had  nothing  to  fear;  and,  as  evi 
dence  of  our  power  to  protect  him,  we  instanced  the 
fact  that  we  had  already  secured  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars'  cash  bail  for  him.  At  this  he  took  much  heart, 
and  even  whistled  a  bit  and  begged  us  for  a  drink, 
but  we  slapped  him  on  the  back  and  told  him  that 
he  could  have  anything  he  wanted  once  he  was  out 
side  the  Tombs — not  before;  so  he  gave  us  a  cold, 
slimy  hand  and  promised  to  do  precisely  as  we 
wished. 

Ten-thirty  came  and  we  both  walked  across  to 
Part  One  of  the  General  Sessions,  where  for  so 
many  years  we  had  been  monarchs  of  all  we  sur 
veyed.  A  great  throng  filled  the  room  and  many 
reporters  clustered  around  the  tables  by  the  rail, 
while  at  the  head  of  a  long  line  of  waiting  prison 
ers  stood  the  bedraggled  Hawkins.  Presently  the 
judge  came  in  and  took  his  seat  and  the  spectators 
surged  forward  so  that  the  officers  had  difficulty 
in  preserving  order.  Somehow,  it  seemed  almost 
as  if  we  were  being  arraigned  ourselves — not  ap 
pearing  as  counsel  for  another;  but  Gottlieb  pre 
served  his  composure  admirably  and,  when  Haw- 

198 


Artemas  Quibble 

kins's  name  was  called,  stepped  forward,  entered  a 
plea  of  not  guilty  for  him  and  gave  bail.  We  had 
already  deposited  the  money  with  the  city  chamber 
lain  and  Hawkins  was  immediately  discharged, 
pending  his  trial  for  perjury;  but  the  tremendous 
sum  demanded  as  security  and  the  fact  that  it  was 
immediately  forthcoming  for  a  prisoner  who  looked 
as  if  he  had  not  a  cent  in  th«  world  of  his  own,  and 
who  was  known  to  be  a  mere  waiter  in  a  restaurant, 
caused  a  sensation  throughout  the  court-room;  and 
as  we  forced  our  way  to  the  street  we  were  accom 
panied  by  a  multitude,  who  jeered  at  tbe  defendant 
and  occasionally  took  a  fling  at  Gottlieb  and  my 
self.  We  still,  however,  were  persons  to  be  feared, 
and  few  dared  venture  beyond  making  suggestive 
allusions  to  our  obvious  desire  to  secure  the  im 
mediate  liberty  of  our  client. 

So  far  we  had  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  dis 
trict  attorney — a  man  of  high  integrity  and  unre 
lenting  zeal  in  the  discharge  of  his  official  dudes — 
had  sought  to  tamper  with  Hawkins;  but  I  instinc 
tively  felt  that,  once  he  had  an  opportunity  to  offer 
the  latter  personal  immunity  in  return  for  a  con 
fession  which  would  implicate  Gottlieb  and  myself 
all  would  be  over.  As  my  partner  had  said,  there 
was  only  one  thing  to  do — and  that  was  to  put  it 
out  of  our  client's  power  to  do  us  harm.  The  first 

199 


The  Confessions  of 

step  in  this  direction  was  to  get  him  hopelessly 
drunk,  and  this  we  successfully  did  in  #  back  room 
of  our  office. 

Both  of  us  knew  that  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  were 
watching  the  entrance  of  the  old-fashioned  build 
ing  in  which  our  rooms  were  located,  and  that  any 
attempt  on  our  part  to  get  Hawkins  out  of  the  city 
would  result  in  his  immediate  arrest.  Once  he 
were  sent  back  to  the  Tombs  he  would  be  out  of  our 
control.  So,  for  three  days,  we  kept  him — a  foul, 
unwashed,  maudlin  thing — a  practical  prisoner,  al 
though  from  his  condition  quite  unconscious  of  it. 
Day  and  night,  turn  and  turn  about,  Gottlieb  and 
I  watched  while  he  snored  and  gibbered,  cursed 
and  giggled;  but  the  strain  was  getting  too  much 
for  both  of  us  and  we  set  ourselves  at  work  to  de 
vise  a  way  to  spirit  him  away. 

Our  offices  were  situated  in  a  block  the  other  side 
of  which  consisted  of  tenement-houses.  Investi 
gation  showed  that  it  would  be  possible  to  get  over 
the  roofs,  walk  nearly  the  length  of  the  block  and 
gain  access  to  one  of  the  more  distant  tenements 
through  a  skylight.  For  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars 
we  found  an  Italian  fruit-dealer  who  was  willing 
to  hire  himself,  his  rickety  wagon,  and  his  spavined 
horse  for  our  enterprise;  and  he  agreed  to  carry 
Hawkins  concealed  under  piles  of  produce  to  a 

200 


Artemas  Quibble 

point  on  Long  Islnad,  where  we  could  take  a  ferry 
across  to  one  of  the  Connecticut  towns. 

The  following  night  we  arranged  that  a  hack 
should  be  drawn  up  early  in  the  evening  in  front  of 
the  entrance  to  the  office,  and  bags  and  boxes  were 
brought  out  and  piled  upon  the  seat  beside  the 
driver.  We  then  half  dragged,  half  lifted  Hawkins 
up  the  stairs  and  on  to  the  roof  by  means  of  a  shaky 
ladder  and  conducted  him  across  the  leads  to  the 
scuttle  of  the  tenement-house.  At  this  juncture, 
by  prearrangement,  three  of  our  clerks,  one  of 
whom  somewhat  resembled  Hawkins  in  size  and 
who  was  arrayed  in  the  latter' s  coat  and  hat,  rushed 
out  of  the  office  and  climbed  into  the  hack,  which 
at  once  set  off  at  a  furious  gallop  up  Centre  Street. 
Coincidently  Gottlieb  and  I  escorted  our  still  maud 
lin  prisoner  down  the  narrow  stairs  at  the  other  end 
of  the  block  and  cajoled  him  into  getting  into  a 
sack,  which  the  Italian  placed  in  the  bottom  of  the 
cart  and  covered  with  greens.  I  now  put  on  a  dis 
guise,  consisting  of  a  laborer's  overalls  and  tattered 
cap,  while  Gottlieb  wheeled  out  a  safety  bicycle 
which  had  been  carefully  concealed  in  the  basement. 

I  had  ten  thousand  dollars  in  the  pocket  of  my 
ragged  trousers  and  a  forty-four-calibre  revolver  at 
my  hip.  Gottlieb  drew  me  back  into  the  shadow 
and  whispered  harshly  in  my  ear. 

201 


The  Confessions  of 

"Quib,"  said  he,  "this  fellow  must  never  come 
back! — do  you  understand  ?  Once  the  district 
attorney  gets  hold  of  him,  it's  all  up  with  us!  It's 
Sing  Sing  for  each  of  us — ten  years  of  it!  For 
God's  sake,  hire  somebody  to  put  him  out  of  the 
way! — quietly.  Many  a  man  would  take  him  off 
our  hands  for  a  thousand  or  so." 

I  shuddered  at  the  cold-blooded  suggestion,  yet 
I  did  not  utter  one  word  of  refusal,  and  must  have 
led  Gottlieb  to  believe  that  I  was  of  a  mind  with 
him,  for  he  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and  bade 
me  good  luck.  Good  luck!  Was  ever  a  man  of 
decent  birth  and  education  forced  upon  such  an 
errand  ?  The  convoying  of  a  drunken  criminal  to 
— where?  I  knew  not — somewhere  whence  he 
could  not  return. 

Thus  I  set  forth  into  the  night  upon  my  bicycle, 
my  money  bulging  in  my  pocket,  my  pistol  knock 
ing  against  the  seat  at  every  turn  of  the  wheel,  my 
trousers  catching  and  tearing  in  the  pedals.  At 
last  I  crossed  the  bridge  and  turned  into  the  wastes 
of  Queens.  Gas-houses,  factories,  and  rotting 
buildings  loomed  black  and  weird  against  the  sky. 
I  pedalled  on  and  at  last  found  myself  upon  a  coun 
try  road.  I  dared  not  ask  my  way,  but  luckily  I  had 
stumbled  upon  the  highway  to  Port  Washington, 
whence  there  was  a  ferry  to  the  Connecticut  shore. 

202 


Artemas  Quibble 

As  I  stole  along  in  the  darkness,  my  ear  caught  far 
ahead  a  voice  roaring  out  a  ribald  song — and  I 
knew  that  the  time  had  come  to  take  personal 
charge  of  my  wretched  client — the  "old  man  of  the 
sea"  that  my  own  cupidity  had  seated  upon  my 
shoulders.  Soon  I  overtook  them,  the  Italian  stolidly 
driving  his  weary  horse  and  Hawkins  sitting  beside 
him  with  the  sack  wrapped  about  his  shoulders.  I 
halted  them,  threw  my  bicycle  in  among  the  vege 
tables,  and  climbed  up  to  where  they  sat.  Hawkins 
gave  a  great  shout  of  laughter  when  he  saw  who  it 
was  and  threw  his  arm  around  my  neck,  but  I  pushed 
him  away  and  he  nearly  fell  under  the  wheels.  My 
gorge  rose  at  him!  Yet  to  him  I  was  shackled  as 
tightly  as  ever  a  criminal  was  to  his  keeper! 

The  thought  of  the  remainder  of  that  night 
and  of  the  ensuing  three  days  and  nights  sickens 
me  even  now.  In  the  early  dawn  we  crossed  the 
ferry  with  dozens  of  other  produce-laden  wagons 
and  landed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Sound, 
where  we  caught  a  local  train  for  Hartford.  I  had 
made  no  arrangements  for  communicating  with 
Gottlieb,  and  was  in  utter  ignorance  of  whether  or 
not  our  escape  had  been  discovered.  We  sat  in  the 
smoking-car,  Hawkins  by  this  time  ill  and  peevish. 
The  air  was  stifling,  yet  I  could  not,  arrayed  as  I 
was  or  in  the  company  of  my  client,  go  into  the 

203 


The  Confessions  of 

regular  passenger  coach.  At  Hartford  we  changed 
for  Springfield  and  I  purchased  a  New  York  paper. 
There  was  nothing  in  it  relating  to  the  case  and  I 
breathed  more  easily;  but,  once  in  Springfield,  I 
knew  not  which  way  to  turn,  and  Hawkins  by  this 
time  was  crazy  for  drink  and  refusing  to  go  farther. 
I  gave  him  enough  liquor  to  keep  him  quiet  and 
thrust  him  on  a  way  train  for  Worcester.  Already 
I  had  exhausted  my  small  bills  and  when  I  tried  to 
cash  one  for  a  hundred  dollars  the  ticket  agent  in 
the  station  eyed  me  with  suspicion. 

That  night  we  slept  in  a  single  bed,  Hawkins  and 
I,  in  a  cheap  lodging-house — that  is,  he  slept  a  sor 
did,  drunken  sleep,  while  I  lay  tossing  and  cursing 
my  fate  until,  burning  with  fever,  I  rose  and  drained 
part  of  the  water  in  the  pitcher.  Yet,  in  the  early 
morning  hours  there  came  to  me  the  first  ray  of 
hope  throughout  that  dreary  space  since  I  had  left 
New  York — the  Quirks!  The  Quirks!  Twenty 
years  had  passed  since  I  had  heard  from  them. 
They  might  be  dead  and  gone  long  ago  without  my 
knowing  it;  yet,  were  they  alive,  I  felt  that  one  or 
other  of  them  would  hold  out  a  friendly  hand  for 
auld  lang  syne.  Before  daybreak,  I  stole  forth, 
hired  a  horse  and  buggy,  asked  the  way  to  Methuen 
and,  rousing  Hawkins,  bundled  him,  whining  and 
fretting,  into  it 

204 


Artemas  Quibble 

Slowly  we  drove  in  the  growing  light  through  the 
country  lanes  I  had  known  and  loved  so  well  as  a 
lad — the  farmland  which  was  the  only  friendly 
thing  in  my  disconsolate  boyhood.  It  was  in  the 
early  spring  and  the  apple-trees  along  the  stone 
walls  by  the  roadside  were  showered  with  cluster 
ing  blossoms.  Dandelions  sprinkled  the  fields. 
The  cloud  shadows  slowly  moved  across  rich  past 
ures  of  delicate  green.  A  sun-warmed,  perfume- 
laden  breeze  blew  from  the  east,  tinged  with  a  keen 
edge  that  sent  the  blood  leaping  in  my  temples. 
Tiny  pools  stood  in  the  ruts  glinting  blue  toward 
the  sky.  The  old  horse  plodded  slowly  on  and  the 
robins  called  among  the  elms  that  stood  arching 
over  white  farm-houses  with  blinds,  some  blue, 
some  green. 

With  a  harrowing  sense  of  helplessness,  the  reali 
zation  of  what  I  had  thrown  away  of  life  swept  over 
me.  I  turned  from  the  sodden  creature  beside  me 
in  disgust.  Hawkins  had  slumped  back  in  his 
seat,  so  that  his  head  rested  upon  the  hood,  and 
had  fallen  sound  asleep,  with  his  mouth  wide  open. 
How  I  wished  that  I  had  the  courage  to  strangle  him 
— and  then  it  came  to  me  that,  after  all,  it  was  not 
he  who  had  ruined  me,  but  I  who  had  ruined  him! 

About  noontime  we  came  to  a  landscape  that 
seemed  familiar  to  me,  although  more  heavily 

205 


The  Confessions  of 

wooded  and  with  many  more  farms  than  I  remem 
bered;  and  at  a  turn  in  the  road  I  recognized  a 
couple  of  huge  elms  that  marked  the  site  of  the 
homestead  occupied  in  my  boyhood  by  the  Quirks. 
There  was  the  brook,  the  maple  grove  upon  the 
hill,  the  old  stile  by  the  pasture,  and  the  long  stone 
wall  beside  the  apple  orchard,  radiant  with  white. 
Yet  the  house  seemed  to  have  vanished.  My  heart 
sank,  for  somehow  I  had  assumed  that  the  Quirks 
must  still  be  living,  just  as  they  had  always  lived. 
And  now,  as  we  drew  near  the  turn,  I  saw  that  the 
place  where  the  homestead  had  stood  was  empty, 
and  all  that  remained  was  a  heap  of  blackened  stone 
and  brick  thickly  overgrown  with  brambles. 

Fifty  yards  farther  down  the  road  we  came  upon 
an  old  man  sitting  on  the  fence,  smoking  a  pipe. 
He  wore  a  tattered  old  brown  felt  hat  and  overalls, 
and  his  long  gray  hair  and  beard  were  tangled  and 
unkempt.  I  passed  him  the  time  of  day  and  he  an 
swered  me  civilly  enough,  although  vacantly;  and 
I  saw  that  his  eye  had  the  red  film  of  the  drunkard. 
When  I  asked  him  for  Quirk,  the  schoolmaster, 
who  used  to  live  thereabout  he  gave  a  mirthless 
chuckle. 

"My  name's  Quirk,"  said  he;  "but  it's  fifteen 
years  since  I  taught  school.  How  did  you  come 
to  know  of  me?" 

206 


Artemas  Quibble 

Could  this  be  Quirk? — this  aged  and  decrepit 
old  man!  Somewhere  beneath  that  mat  of  hair 
and  beard,  did  there  remain  traces  of  those  good- 
natured  lineaments  that  were  wont  to  set  the  boys 
in  a  roar  ?  I  scanned  his  face  closely.  The  man 
was  a  stranger  to  my  recollection. 

"Do  you  remember  me,  Mr.  Quirk?"  I  asked. 

He  peered  out  at  me  under  his  bushy  brows  and 
slowly  removed  his  pipe. 

"Not  to  my  knowledge,"  he  answered.  "What 
might  be  your  name  ?" 

"Quibble,"  I  returned— -"Artemas  Quibble." 

"Artemas  Quibble!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  faltering 
voice  and  feebly  crawled  over  to  the  buggy. 

I  climbed  down  to  meet  him  and  extended  my 
hand. 

"What  has  happened  to  you?"  he  stammered. 
"I  thought  you  were  a  great  lawyer  in  New  York." 

"I'm  in  a  peck  of  trouble,"  I  answered.  "I  need 
all  the  friends  I've  got.  I  hope  you're  still  one  of 
them?" 

"Well,  well!"  he  muttered.  "And  to  think  that 
you're  Artie  Quibble!  And  who  may  this  be?" 
pointing  to  Hawkins. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all,"  said  I,  "  later  on.  For  the  pres 
ent,  he's  a  friend  of  mine  who's  travelling  with  me 
— more  on  business  than  on  pleasure." 

207 


The  Confessions  of 

Quirk's  story  was  soon  told.  As  I  already  sus 
pected,  drink  had  become  his  master.  The  school 
had  fallen  away,  his  wife  had  died,  and  in  a  fit  of 
despondency  he  had — he  said  accidentally,  but  I 
believe  intentionally — overturned  a  lamp  and  set 
fire  to  the  house.  Now  he  lodged  in  a  small  hovel 
farther  down  the  road,  living  from  hand  to  mouth, 
and  doing  a  day's  work  here  and  there  when  chance 
offered.  I  gave  him  fifty  dollars  and  bade  him 
good-bye,  for  he  had  no  accommodations  to  offer  us 
even  had  I  been  able  to  induce  Hawkins  to  remain 
there.  Thus  I  realized  that  the  only  refuge  I  ever 
had  from  the  outside  world,  the  only  real  home  I 
had  ever  known,  was  gone.  I  had  nowhere  to  go, 
nowhere  to  deposit  my  evil  load. 

We  drove  on  for  a  space,  and  now  Hawkins 
awoke  and  began  to  clamor  for  food.  Where  was 
I  taking  him  ?  he  demanded  to  know.  And  why 
was  I  togged  out  like  a  bricklayer  ?  He  announced 
that  he  had  had  enough  of  this  kind  of  travelling 
and  insisted  on  going  to  a  hotel  and  having  a  decent 
meal.  I  tried  to  reason  with  him  and  explained 
that  it  was  only  for  a  day  or  so,  and  that  presently 
we  would  go  to  Boston  or  some  other  city,  where 
he  should  have  everything  that  money  could  buy. 
But  he  leered  at  me  and  said  he  had  had  plenty  of 
promises  already;  that  we  had  promised  him  that 

208 


Artemas  Quibble 

he  would  get  into  no  trouble  if  he  signed  his  original 
affidavit,  and  that,  unless  he  were  treated  like  a 
gentleman,  he  would  go  back  to  New  York  and  get 
other  lawyers.  He  must  have  seen  me  turn  white 
at  his  threat,  for  from  that  moment  he  held  it  over 
me,  constantly  repeating  it  and  insinuating  that  I 
was  not  so  anxious  to  save  him  as  to  save  myself, 
which,  alas!  I  could  not  gainsay. 

Soon  we  came  to  a  small  town  and  here  Hawkins 
flatly  refused  to  go  farther.  There  was  a  hotel  on 
the  main  street,  and  the  fellow  clambered  out  of  the 
buggy  and  staggered  into  the  bar  and  called  loudly 
for  whiskey.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  put 
up  the  horse  in  the  stable  and  do  as  my  prisoner 
demanded.  So  we  had  dinner  together,  Hawkins 
talking  in  a  loud,  thick  voice  that  made  the  wait 
resses  and  other  guests  stare  at  him  and  me  as  if  we 
were  some  sort  of  outlandish  folk;  and  after  the 
meal  was  over  he  dragged  me  to  the  nearest  clothier 
and  ordered  new  ready-made  suits  for  both  of  us. 
He  had  now  imbibed  much  more  than  was  good  for 
him;  and  when  I  took  out  my  roll  of  bills  to  pay  for 
what  we  had  bought  he  snatched  it  out  of  my  hand 
and  refused  to  give  it  back.  For  a  moment  I  al 
most  surrendered  myself  to  despair.  I  had  had  no 
sleep  for  two  nights,  I  was  overwhelmed  with  morti; 
fication  and  disgust,  and  here  I  was  in  a  country 

209 


The  Confessions  of 

store  pranked  out  like  a  popinjay,  the  keeper  of  a 
half-crazy  wretch  who  made  me  dance  to  any  tune 
he  chose  to  pipe;  but  I  pulled  myself  together  and 
cajoled  Hawkins  into  leaving  the  place  and  giving 
me  back  a  small  part  of  the  money. 

There  was  a  train  just  leaving  for  Boston  and  my 
companion  insisted  upon  taking  it,  saying  that  he 
proposed  to  spend  the  money  that  Dillingham  had 
so  kindly  furnished  him  with.  I  never  knew  just 
how  he  discovered  the  part  Dillingham  was  play 
ing  in  this  strange  drama;  but  if  no  one  told  him, 
he  at  any  rate  divined  it  somehow,  and  from  this 
moment  he  assumed  the  lead  and  directed  all  our 
movements.  It  is  true  that  I  persuaded  him  to  go 
to  one  of  the  smaller  and  less  conspicuous  hotels, 
but  he  at  once  sent  for  another  tailor,  ordered  an 
elaborate  meal  for  supper,  with  champagne,  and 
procured  a  box  at  one  of  the  theatres,  whither  I  was 
obliged  to  escort  him.  Neither  would  he  longer 
permit  me  to  occupy  the  same  room  with  him — 
precious  privilege! — but  engaged  a  palatial  suite 
for  himself,  with  a  parlor,  while  I  had  a  small  and 
modest  room  farther  down  the  hall.  In  some  re 
spects  this  suited  me  well,  however,  since  I  was 
now  able  to  induce  him  to  have  his  meals  served 
upstairs.  Yet  I  began  to  see  the  foolishness  of 
thinking  that  we  could  elude  the  police  should  they 

210 


Artemas  Quibble 

set  out  to  seek  seriously  for  us,  since,  apart  from 
changing  our  names,  we  were  making  no  effort  at 
disguising  ourselves. 

The  day  after  our  arrival,  Hawkins  slept  late  and 
I  slipped  out  about  ten  o'clock  and  wandering  aim 
lessly  came  to  Barristers'  Hall,  where  twenty  years 
before  old  Tuckerman  Toddleham  had  his  office. 
The  day  was  warm  and  humid,  like  that  upon 
which  so  long  ago  I  had  visited  the  old  lawyer 
when  a  student  at  Harvard  and  had  received  from 
him  my  sentence.  Even  as  then,  some  birds  were 
twittering  around  the  stone  window-ledges.  An 
impulse  that  at  the  moment  was  beyond  my  control 
led  me  up  the  narrow,  dingy  stairs  to  the  landing 
where  the  lawyer's  office  had  been.  A  green-baize 
door,  likely  enough  the  same  one,  still  hung  there — 
and  I  pushed  it  open  and  entered.  Naught  about 
the  room  was  altered.  There  were  the  bookcases, 
with  their  glass  doors  and  green-silk  curtains;  the 
threadbare  carpet,  the  portrait  of  the  Honorable 
Jeremiah  Mason  over  the  fireplace;  the  old  ma 
hogany  desk;  the  little  bronze  paper-weight  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse;  the  books,  brown  and  faded  with 
years;  and  at  the  desk — I  brushed  my  hand  across 
my  eyes — at  the  desk  sat  old  Tuckerman  Toddle- 
ham  himself! 

For  the  first  time  in  my  entire  existence,  so  far 

211 


The  Confessions  of 

as  I  can  now  remember,  I  was  totally  nonplussed 
and  abashed.  I  could  not  have  been  more  aston 
ished  had  I  walked  into  the  family  lot  in  the  Salem 
cemetery  and  found  my  grandfather  sitting  on  his 
own  tombstone;  but  there  the  old  lawyer  surely 
was,  as  certainly  as  he  had  been  there  twenty  years 
before;  and  the  same  sensations  that  I  had  always 
experienced  as  a  child  when  in  his  presence  now 
swept  over  me  and  made  me  feel  like  a  whipped 
school-boy.  Not  for  the  world  would  I  have  had 
him  see  me  and  be  forced  to  answer  his  questions 
as  to  my  business  in  the  city  of  Boston;  so,  holding 
my  breath,  I  tiptoed  out  of  the  door,  and  the  last 
vision  I  everhad  of  him  was  as  he  sat  there  absorbed 
in  some  legal  problem,  bending  over  his  books, 
the  sunlight  flooding  the  mote-filled  air  of  the  dusty 
office,  the  little  bronze  horse  standing  before  him 
on  the  desk  and  the  branches  of  the  trees  outside 
casting  flickering  shadows  upon  the  walls  and  book 
cases.  Canny  old  man!  He  had  never  put  his 
neck  in  a  noose!  I  envied  him  his  quiet  life  among 
his  books  and  the  well-deserved  respect  and  honor 
that  the  world  accorded  him. 

Ruminating  in  this  strain,  I  threaded  my  way 
through  the  crowd  on  Court  Street,  and  was  about 
to  return  to  my  hotel,  when  to  my  utter  horror  I 
beheld  Hawkins,  in  all  his  regalia,  being  marched 

212 


Artemas  Quibble 

down  the  hill  between  two  business-like-looking 
persons,  who  were  unmistakably  officers  of  police. 
He  walked  dejectedly  and  had  lost  all  his  bravado. 
There  was  no  blinking  the  fact  that  in  my  absence 
he  had  managed  somehow  to  stumble  into  the  hands 
of  the  guardians  of  the  law  and  was  now  in  process 
of  being  transported  back  to  New  York. 

For  a  moment  my  circulation  stopped  abruptly 
and  a  clammy  moisture  broke  out  upon  my  back 
and  forehead.  Unostentatiously  I  slipped  into  a 
cigar  store  and  allowed  the  trio  to  pass  me  by.  So 
the  jig  was  up !  Back  I  must  go,  after  my  fruitless 
nightmare  with  the  wretch,  to  consult  with  my  part 
ner  as  to  what  was  now  to  be  done.  I  reached  the 
city  late  that  evening,  but  not  before  I  had  read  in 
the  evening  papers  a  full  account  of  the  apprehen 
sion  of  the  fugitive,  including  my  own  part  in  his 
escape;  and  it  now  appeared  that  the  police  had 
been  fully  cognizant  of  all  our  doings,  including  the 
manner  of  our  abduction  of  Hawkins  from  our  office. 
They  had,  under  the  instructions  of  the  shrewd  dis 
trict  attorney,  simply  permitted  us  to  carry  out  our 
plan  in  order  to  use  the  same  as  evidence  against  us 
at  the  proper  time,  and  had  followed  us  every  step  of 
the  way  to  Worcester  and  on  our  drive  to  Methuen. 

My  heart  almost  failed  me  as  I  thought  of  how 
foolish  I  had  been  to  undertake  this  desperate  jour- 

213 


The  Confessions  of 

ney  myself,  instead  of  sending  some  one  in  my  place 
for  by  so  doing  I  had  stamped  myself  as  vitally  in 
terested  in  my  client's  escape.  Fearful  to  go  to  my 
own  home,  lest  I  should  find  myself  in  the  hands 
of  the  police,  I  spent  the  night  in  a  lodging-house 
on  the  water-front,  wondering  whether  Hawkins  had 
already  made  his  confession  to  the  district  attorney 
in  return  for  a  promise  of  immunity;  for  I  well 
knew  that  such  a  promise  would  be  forthcoming  and 
that  Hawkins  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  neg 
lect  the  opportunity  to  save  himself  at  our  expense. 
Next  morning  I  telephoned  Gottlieb  and  met 
him  by  appointment  at  a  hotel,  where  we  had  a 
heated  colloquy,  in  which  he  seemed  to  think  that 
I  was  totally  to  blame  for  the  failure  of  our  at 
tempt.  He  was  hardly  himself,  so  worn  out  was 
he  with  anxiety,  not  having  heard  from  me  until  he 
had  read  of  Hawkins's  apprehension  in  Boston;  but, 
now  that  I  was  able  to  talk  things  over  with  him,  we 
agreed  that  any  effort  to  spirit  our  client  away  would 
have  been  equally  unsuccessful,  and  that  the  one 
course  remaining  for  us  to  pursue  was  to  put  on  as 
bold  a  front  as  possible  and  let  the  law  take  ks 
course.  It  was  equally  useless  for  us  to  try  to  con 
ceal  our  own  whereabouts,  for  all  our  movements 
were  undoubtedly  watched;  and  the  best  thing  to 
do,  it  seemed  to  us,  was  to  go  as  usual  to  our  office 

214 


Arternas  Quibble 

and  to  act  as  nearly  as  possible  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

We  were  not  mistaken  as  to  the  intended  course 
of  the  district  attorney;  for,  when  we  visited  the 
Tombs  for  the  purpose  of  interviewing  Hawkins, 
we  were  informed  by  the  warden  that  he  had  ob- 
taiiaed  other  counsel  and  that  our  services  were  no 
longer  required.  This  was  an  indisputable  indica 
tion  that  he  had  gone  over  to  the  enemy;  and  we 
at  once  began  to  take  such  steps  as  lay  in  our  power 
to  prepare  for  our  defence  in  case  an  indictment 
was  found  against  us.  And  now  we  were  treated 
to  a  dose  of  the  medicine  we  had  customarily  ad 
ministered  to  our  own  clients;  for,  when  we  tried 
to  secure  counsel,  we  found  that  one  and  all  insisted 
upon  our  paying  over  in  advance  even  greater  sums 
as  retainers  than  those  which  we  had  demanded  in 
like  cases.  I  had  never  taken  the  trouble  to  lay  by 
anything,  since  I  had  always  had  all  the  ready  cash 
I  needed.  Gottlieb  was  in  the  same  predicament, 
and  in  our  distress  we  called  upon  Dillingham  to 
furnish  us  with  the  necessary  amount;  but,  to  our 
amazement  and  horror,  our  erstwhile  client  refused 
to  see  us  or  come  to  our  office,  and  we  definitely 
realized  that  he,  too,  had  sought  safety  in  con 
fession  and  would  be  used  by  the  prosecution  in 
its  effort  to  place  the  crime  of  perjury  at  our  door. 

215 


The  Confessions  of 

From  the  moment  of  Hawkins's  rearrest  the  tide 
turned  against  us.  There  seemed  to  be  a  general 
understanding  throughout  the  city  that  the  district 
attorney  intended  to  make  an  example  in  our  case, 
and  to  show  that  it  was  quite  as  possible  to  convict 
a  member  of  the  bar  as  any  one  else.  He  certainly 
gave  us  no  loophole  of  escape,  for  he  secured  every 
witness  that  by  any  possibility  we  might  have  called 
to  our  aid,  and  even  descended  upon  our  office  with 
a  search-warrant  in  his  effort  to  secure  evidence 
against  us.  Luckily,  however,  Gottlieb  and  I  had 
made  a  practice  of  keeping  no  papers  and  had  care 
fully  burned  everything  relating  to  the  Dillingham 
case  before  I  had  left  the  city. 

The  press  preserved  a  singular  and  ominous 
silence  in  regard  to  us,  which  lasted  until  one  morn 
ing  when  a  couple  of  officers  appeared  with  bench- 
warrants  for  our  arrest.  We  had  already  made  ar 
rangements  for  bail  in  the  largest  amount  and  had 
secured  the  services  of  the  ablest  criminal  attorneys 
we  knew,  so  that  we  were  speedily  released;  but, 
with  the  return  of  the  indictments  charging  us  with 
suborning  the  testimony  of  Hawkins,  the  papers 
began  a  regular  crusade  against  us.  The  evening 
editions  carried  spectacular  front-page  stories  re 
counting  my  flight  to  Boston,  the  entire  history  of 
the  Dillingham  divorce,  biographies  of  both  Gott- 

216 


Artemas  Quibble 

lieb  and  myself,  and  anecdotes  of  cases  in  which  we 
had  appeared  and  notorious  criminals  whom  we 
had  defended.  And  in  all  this  storm  of  abuse  and 
incrimination  which  now  burst  over  our  heads  not 
a  single  word  appeared  in  mitigation  of  our  alleged 
offence. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  entire  city  had  determined  to 
wreak  vengeance  upon  us  for  all  the  misdeeds  of 
the  entire  criminal  bar.  Even  our  old  clients,  and 
the  police  and  court  officers  who  had  drawn  pay 
from  us,  seemed  to  rejoice  in  our  downfall.  Every 
man's  hand  was  against  us.  The  hue  and  cry  had 
been  raised  and  we  were  to  be  harried  out  of  town 
and  into  prison.  At  every  turn  we  were  forced  to 
pay  out  large  sums  to  secure  the  slightest  assistance; 
our  ckrks  and  employees  refused  longer  to  work 
for  us,  and  groups  of  loiterers  gathered  about  the 
office  and  pointed  to  the  windows.  Our  lives  be 
came  a  veritable  hell,  and  I  longed  for  the  time 
when  the  anxiety  should  be  over  and  I  should  know 
whether  the  public  clamor  for  a  victim  were  to  be 
satisfied. 

Gottlieb  and  the  lawyers  fought  stubbornly  every 
inch  of  the  defence.  First,  they  attacked  the  valid 
ity  of  the  proceedings,  entered  demurrers,  and  made 
motions  to  dismiss  the  indictments.  These  mat 
ters  took  a  month  or  two  to  decide.  Then  came 

217 


The  Confessions  of 

motions  for  a  change  of  venue,  appeals  from  the 
decisions  against  us  to  the  Appellate  Division,  and 
other  technical  delays;  so  that  four  months  passed 
before,  at  last,  we  were  forced  to  go  to  trial.  By 
this  time  my  health  had  suffered;  and  when  I 
looked  at  myself  in  the  glass  I  was  shocked  to  find 
how  gaunt  and  hollow-cheeked  I  had  grown.  My 
hair,  which  had  up  to  this  time  been  dark  brown, 
had  in  a  brief  space  turned  quite  gray  over  my  ears, 
and  whatever  of  good  looks  I  had  ever  possessed 
had  vanished  utterly.  Gottlieb,  too,  had  altered 
from  a  jovial,  sleek-looking  fellow  into  a  nervous, 
worried,  ratlike  little  man.  My  creditors  pressed 
me  for  their  money  and  I  was  forced  to  close  my 
house  and  live  at  a  small  hotel.  The  misery  of 
those  days  is  something  I  do  not  care  to  recall. 
We  were  both  of  us  stripped,  as  it  were,  of  every 
thing  at  once — money,  friends, health,  and  position; 
for  we  were  the  jest  and  laughing-stock  of  the  very 
criminals  who  had  before  our  downfall  been  our 
clients  and  crowded  our  office  in  their  eagerness  to 
secure  our  erstwhile  powerful  assistance.  Our  day 
was  over! 

It  was  useless  to  try  to  escape  from  the  meshes  of 
the  net  drawn  so  tightly  around  us.  Even  if  we 
could  have  forfeited  our  heavy  bail — which  would 
have  been  an  impossibility,  owing  to  the  watchful- 

218 


Artemas  Quibble 

ness  of  our  bondsman — we  could  never  have  eluded 
the  detectives  who  now  dogged  our  footsteps.  We 
were  marked  men.  Everywhere  we  were  pointed 
out  and  made  the  objects  of  comment  and  half- 
concealed  abuse.  The  final  straw  was  when  the 
district  attorney,  in  his  anxiety  lest  we  should  slip 
through  his  fingers,  caused  our  rearrest  on  a 
trumped-up  charge  that  we  were  planning  to  leave 
the  city,  and  we  were  thrown  into  the  Tombs,  being 
unable  to  secure  the  increased  bail  which  he  de 
manded.  Here  we  had  the  pleasure  of  having 
Hawkins  leer  down  at  us  from  the  tier  of  cells 
above,  and  here  we  suffered  the  torments  of  the 
damned  at  the  hands  of  our  fellow  prisoners,  who, 
to  a  man,  made  it  their  daily  business  and  pleasure 
to  render  our  lives  miserable.  Gottlieb  wasted 
away  to  a  mere  shadow  and  I  became  seriously  ill 
from  the  suffocating  heat  and  loathsome  food,  for 
it  was  now  midsummer  and  the  Tombs  was 
crowded  with  prisoners  waiting  until  the  courts 
should  open  in  the  autumn  to  be  tried. 

We  were  called  to  the  bar  together — Gottlieb  and 
I — to  answer  to  the  charge  against  us  in  the  very 
court-room  where  my  partner  had  won  so  many 
forensic  victories  and  secured  the  acquittal  of  so 
many  clients  more  fortunate  than  he.  From  the 
outset  of  the  case  everything  went  against  us;  and 

219 


The  Confessions  of 

it  seemed  as  if  judge,  prosecutor,  and  jury  were 
united  in  a  conspiracy  to  deprive  us  of  our  rights 
and  to  railroad  us  to  prison.  Even  when  impanel 
ling  the  jury,  I  was  amazed  to  find  the  prejudice 
against  criminal  lawyers  in  general  and  ourselves 
in  particular;  for  almost  every  other  talesman 
swore  that  he  was  so  fixed  in  his  opinion  as  to  our 
guilt  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  give  us  a  fair 
trial. 

At  last,  however,  after  several  days  a  jury  of 
twelve  hard-faced  citizens  was  sworn  who  asserted 
that  they  had  no  bias  against  us  and  could  give  us  a 
fair  trial  and  the  benefit  of  every  reasonable  doubt. 
Fair  trial,  indeed!  We  were  convicted  before  the 
first  witness  was  sworn!  Convicted  by  the  press, 
the  public,  and  the  atmosphere  that  had  been  stirred 
up  against  us  during  the  preceding  months.  And 
yet,  one  satisfaction  remained  to  me,  and  that  was 
the  sight  of  Hawkins  and  Dillingham  on  the  grill 
under  the  cross-examination  of  our  attorneys.  Dil 
lingham  particularly  was  a  pitiable  object,  shaking 
and  sweating  upon  the  witness  chair,  and  forced  to 
admit  that  he  had  paid  Gottlieb  and  me  thirty-five 
thousand  dollars  to  get  him  an  annulment  so  that 
he  could  marry  the  woman  with  whom  he  was  now 
living.  The  court-room  was  jammed  to  the  doors 
with  a  curious  crowd,  anxious  to  see  Gottlieb  and 

220 


Artemas  Quibble 

me  on  trial  and  to  learn  the  nature  of  the  evidence 
against  us;  and  when  our  client  left  the  stand — a 
pitiful,  wilted  human  creature — and  crawled  out 
of  the  room,  a  jeering  throng  followed  him  down 
stairs  and  out  into  the  street. 

The  actual  giving  of  evidence  occupied  but  two 
days,  the  chief  witness  next  to  Hawkins  being  the 
clerk  who  swore  the  latter  to  his  affidavit  in  my 
office.  This  treacherous  rascal  not  only  testified 
that  Hawkins  took  his  oath  to  the  contents  of  the 
paper,  but  at  the  same  time  had  told  me  that  it  was 
false.  The  farce  went  on,  a  mere  formal  giving  of 
testimony,  until  at  length  the  district  attorney  an 
nounced  that  he  had  no  more  evidence  to  offer. 

"You  may  proceed  with  the  defence,"  said  the 
judge,  turning  to  our  counsel. 

I  looked  at  Gottlieb  and  Gottlieb  looked  at  me. 
The  trial  had  closed  so  suddenly  that  we  were  taken 
quite  unawares  and  left  wholly  undetermined  what 
to  do.  We  had  practically  no  evidence  to  offer  in 
our  behalf  except  our  own  denials  of  the  testimony 
against  us;  and  if  once  either  of  us  took  the  stand 
we  should  open  the  door  to  a  cross-examination  at 
the  hands  of  the  district  attorney  of  our  entire  lives. 
For  this  cross-examination  he  had  been  preparing 
for  months;  and  I  well  knew  that  there  was  not  a 
single  shady  transaction  in  which  we  had  partici- 

221 


The  Confessions  of 

pated,  not  one  attempt  at  blackmail,  not  a  crooked 
defence  that  we  had  interposed  that  he  had  not  in 
vestigated  and  stood  prepared  to  question  us  about 
in  detail. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  whispered  Gottlieb  ner 
vously.  "  Do  you  want  to  take  the  stand  ? " 

"  How  can  we  ?"  I  asked  petulantly.  "  If  we  did 
we  should  be  convicted — not  for  this  but  for  every 
other  thing  we  ever  did  in  our  lives.  Let's  take  a 
chance  and  go  to  the  jury  on  the  case  as  it  stands." 

After  consulting  with  our  counsel,  the  latter 
agreed  that  this  was  tke  best  course  to  pursue;  and 
so,  rising,  he  informed  the  court  that  in  his  opinion 
no  case  had  been  made  out  against  us  and  that  we 
should,  therefore,  interpose  no  defence.  This  an 
nouncement  caused  a  great  stir  in  the  court-room, 
and  I  could  see  by  the  faces  of  the  jury  that  it  was 
all  up  with  us.  I  had  already  surrendered  all  hope 
of  an  acquittal  and  I  looked  upon  the  verdict  of  the 
jury  as  a  mere  formality. 

"  Proceed,  then,  wkh  the  summing  up,"  ordered 
the  judge.  "  I  wish  the  jury  to  take  this  case  and 
finish  it  to-night." 

So,  with  that,  our  counsel  began  his  argument  in 
our  behalf — a  lame  and  halting  effort  it  seemed  to 
me,  for  all  that  we  had  paid  him  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  for  his  services — pointing  out  how 

222 


Artemas  Quibble 

neither  Dillingham  nor  Hawkins  was  worthy  of 
belief,  and  how  the  case  against  us  rested  entirely 
upon  their  testimony  and  upon  that  of  the  clerk, 
who  was  an  insignificant  aad  unimportant  witness 
injected  simply  for  the  sake  of  apparent  corrobora- 
tion.  Faugh !  I  have  heard  Gottlieb  make  a  bet 
ter  address  to  the  jury  a  thousand  times,  and  yet 
this  man  was  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  best!  Some 
how  throughout  the  trial  he  had  seemed  to  me  to 
be  ill  at  ease  and  sick  of  his  job,  a  mere  puppet  in 
the^mummery  going  on  about  us;  yet  we  had  no 
choice  but  to  let  him  continue  his  ill-concealed  plea 
for  mercy  and  his  wretched  rhetoric,  until  the  judge 
stopped  him  and  said  that  his  time  was  up. 

When  the  district  attorney  arose  and  the  jury 
turned  to  him  with  uplifted  faces,  then,  for  the  first 
time,  I  realized  the  real  attitude  of  the  community 
toward  us;  for  in  scathing  terms  he  denounced  us 
both  as  men  not  merely  who  defended  criminals 
but  who,  in  fact,  created  them;  as  plotters  against 
the  administration  of  justice;  as  arch-crooks,  who 
lived  off  the  proceeds  of  crimes  which  we  devised 
and  planned  for  others  to  execute.  It  was  false  and 
unfair;  but  the  jury  believed  him — I  could  well  see 
that. 

"These  men  have  made  a  fat  living  for  nearly  a 
generation  in  this  city  by  blackmail,  bribery,  and 

223 


The  Confessions  of 

perjury.  They  have  made  a  business  of  ruining 
homes,  reputations,  and  the  lives  of  others.  They 
have  directed  the  operations  of  organized  bands  of 
criminals.  They  are  the  Fagins  of  the  city  of  New 
York.  Once  the  poor  and  defenceless  have  fallen 
into  their  power,  they  have  extorted  tribute  from 
them  and  turned  them  into  the  paths  of  crime. 
Better  that  one  of  them  should  be  convicted  than 
a  thousand  of  trie  miserable  wretches  ordinarily 
brought  to  the  bar  of  justice!" 

And  in  this  strain  he  went  on  until  he  had  bared 
Gottlieb  and  myself  to  our  very  souls.  When  he 
concluded  there  was  a  ripple  of  applause  from  the 
spectators  that  the  court  officers  made  little  attempt 
to  subdue;  and  the  judge  began  his  charge,  which 
lasted  but  a  few  minutes.  What  he  said  was  fair 
enough,  and  I  had  no  mind  to  quarrel  with  him, 
although  our  counsel  took  many  exceptions.  The 
jury  retired  and  my  partner  and  I  were  lad  down 
stairs  into  the  prison  pen.  It  was  crowded  with 
miserable  creatures  waiting  to  be  tried — negroes 
and  Sicilians,  thieves  and  burglars — who  took 
keen  delight  in  jostling  us  and  foretelling  what  long 
sentences  we  should  receive.  One  negro  kicked 
me  in  the  shins  and  cursed  me  for  being  a  shyster, 
and  when  I  protested  to  the  keeper  he  only  laughed 
at  me. 

224 


Artemas  Quibble 

About  half  an  hour  later  an  officer  came  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  and  shouted  down: 

"Bring  up  Gottlieb  and  Quibble!" 

Our  keeper  unlocked  the  pen  and,  followed  by 
the  execrations  of  our  associates,  we  stumbled  up 
the  stairs  and  into  the  court-room.  Slowly  we 
marched  around  to  the  bar,  while  every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  us.  The  jury  were  already  back  in  the 
box  and  standing  to  render  their  decision.  The 
clerk  rapped  for  order  and  turned  to  the  foreman. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon 
a  verdict?"  he  intoned. 

"We  have,"  answered  the  foreman  unhesitat 
ingly. 

"  How  say  you,  do  you  find  the  defendants  guilty 
or  not  guilty?" 

"We  find  both  of  them  guilty!"  replied  the  fore 
man. 

A  slight  shiver  passed  through  Gottlieb's  little 
body  and  for  a  moment  the  blood  sang  in  ray  ears. 
No  man  can  receive  a  verdict  of  guilty  unperturbed, 
no  matter  how  confidently  expected.  The  crowd 
murmured  their  approval  and  the  judge  rapped  for 
silence. 

"  Are  you  ready  for  sentence  ?"  asked  the  judge. 

We  nodded.  It  was  useless  to  prolong  the 
agony. 

225 


The  Confessions  of 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  remarked  the 
judge,  "in  addition  to  what  the  district  attorney  has 
said.  He  has  fully  expressed  my  own  sentiments 
in  this  case.  I  regard  you  as  vampires,  sucking  the 
blood  of  the  weak,  helpless,  and  criminal.  Mercy 
would  be  out  of  place  if  extended  toward  you.  I 
sentence  you  both  to  the  full  limit  which  the  law 
allows — ten  years  in  State's  prison  at  hard  labor." 

An  officer  clapped  us  upon  the  back,  faced  us 
round  toward  the  rear  of  the  court-room,  and 
pushed  us  toward  the  door  leading  to  the  prison 
pen,  while  another  slipped  a  handcuff  on  my  right 
wrist  and  snapped  its  mate  on  Gottlieb's  left. 

"Get  on  there,"  he  growled,  "where  you  be 
long!" 

The  crowd  strained  to  get  a  look  at  us  as,  with 
averted  faces,  we  trudged  toward  the  door  leading 
to  the  prison  pen.  Our  lawyers  had  already  has 
tened  away  to  avoid  any  reflected  ignominy  that 
might  attach  to  them.  The  jurymen  were  shaking 
hands  with  the  district  attorney. 

"Adjourn  court!"  I  heard  the  judge  remark. 

With  a  whoop,  the  spectators  in  the  court-room 
crowded  upon  our  heels  and  surged  up  to  the  grat 
ing  before  the  door. 

"There's  Gottlieb!"  cried  one.  "The  little 
fellow!" 

226 


Artemas  Quibble 

"And  that's  Quibble — the  pale  chap  with  the 
thin  face!"  said  another. 

"Damn  you!  Get  out  of  the  way!"  I  shouted 
threateningly. 

"There  go  the  shysters!"  retorted  the  crowd. 
"Sing  Sing's  the  best  place  for  them!" 

The  keeper  opened  the  door  and  motioned  back 
the  spectators.  I  staggered  through,  shackled  to 
my  partner  and  dragging  him  along  with  me.  As 
the  door  clanged  to  I  heard  some  one  say: 

"There  goes  die  last  of  the  firm  of  Gottlieb  & 
Quibble!" 


taj 


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LIBRARY,   UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-Series  458 


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